in this exact moment,

i am breathing the recycled air of my cage

but i also find myself

in the exact middle

i often catch myself

reminiscing over

the student of the week poster

from second grade,

the special edition books i

collected as i grew up;

missing

the little girl who giggled about

everything the sun touched,

the young student who enjoyed

living

(i often wish i can go back in t—)

i often catch myself

anticipating

the independence that comes

with leaving my home cage,

the metamorphic change

i will experience;

fearing that

i’m not competent

enough by myself,

i’m just not enough

(i often wish i can go leap forward into the f—)

in this exact moment,

i am breathing the recycled air of my cage

but i am also living in the moment

in the exact middle

k.s.