I Am

Hello hi hi hi I literally have two entire blogposts on hold that I started before this one (it has been impossible to come back to writing them for some reason) but the inspiration came to me (probably due to my own delirium) and I couldn't let it go #sorrynotsorry ;)

Anywayyyyy here's the piece I felt overwhelmingly compelled to write.

..........

I Am

by: Maya I. E. Wilson

I am not beauty, nor elegance, nor grace
Don't you dare speak my name
I am festering wounds
I am tumbling mouths
I am crumbs in the bedsheets, stale gum and plot holes
I am not softly falling rain
I am the hurricane
I am peppered on bruises
I am swollen tonsils and week-old stubble
I am talking hands and chipped nail polish and sand
I am sunburnt ego
I am too-large nose
I am too loud, too short, too proud
I am my mother's mistakes
I am my father's mistakes
I am above my past and I am forever grieving it
I am reaching for fireflies
I am making new histories
I am big, I am love, I am joy
I hold the entire world in my palms
I am the cracks on the sidewalk and the flowers that grow from them
I am freezing cold water and gasps for air
I am yearning for something that might not be there
I am not steady
I am not calm
I am not a product of everything wrong
I am kites flying high and piles of snow
I am not the rehearsal, I am the show
I am tuna melts and Yankee candles and pinky promises
I am tangles of ivy and Newport and clam chowder
I am frigid Novembers and colder Decembers and overweight Vermont turkeys
I am crackling knuckles and future arthritis
I am the dulce de leche my grandparents invited
I am the speeding sailboats and the swaying palm trees off the coast of California
I am the currents flowing through Río Ozama
I am the hymns from churches I've never been to
I am a New York sliced pizza and fights you've never been through
I am too scared of subways, too Hudson River,
too young and still too much of a giver
I am not the national anthem, I am not a prize to be won
I am the children's laughter at recess
I am the view from Pico Duarte
I am the unspoken progress
I am free time on a workday
I am the floors my mother slept on
I am the songs my father sang
I am my brothers' peace of mind
I am the help hotline you rang
I am the dream that never ended, the story always retold
I am terrified of staying, terrified of growing old

I am not fleeting, nor sudden, nor temporary.
I am present, ever constant, ever permanent.
Ever here.
Do not try to perfect me,
I am my own magnum opus.
You do not get to claim me.
I am not yours to be had.
I am mine and mine alone.
You got that?

..........

So I casually stayed up all night––it's currently 12pm (as in noon) and I have yet to fall asleep :-) I dunno, I felt this urgent call to write. Like, I just had to. It was gonna eat at me otherwise.

Would love to hear your thoughts <3

Hasta la próxima,

Much love xoxo

Maya

P.S.: I'm reading this over right now and I don't know if it's the sleep deprivation but I am absolutely in love with it <3