This poem was written for day two of Escapril, where the original post can be found here. The prompt called for “the exact middle,” which I honestly had no problem writing about. I am in a stage of my own life where I am in the “exact middle” but also in a “state of limbo.” The awkward halfway point between childhood and adulthood: Being treated like a child by assuming we aren’t autonomous, while simultaneously expecting the same amount of effort and responsibilities as adults, if not more.
I have been struggling with identity, even more so during quarantine as I have had more time to myself to think about everything and anything. To be frank, it’s less about my Asian-American status and more about my role in society; my hopes and dreams; my sexuality and gender; and what kind of soul I have deep down. Call it teen angst, but it does, indeed, have a body count: Myself.
Well, my younger self.
I digress: The left-aligned lines represent the happier times I spent — in hindsight — when I was younger. This includes even just sophomore year. I say “hindsight” because I revisited my diary to see that the things that felt like such a big deal to me back then is very minuscule compared to the mounting pressure I have on myself and from my family at the moment. (I’m sure in the future, I’d say the same thing now. How everything was so trivial, not worthy of the stress and worry I’m putting myself through.) With the knowledge of the regrets of what I did and didn’t do (something that deserves its own post) and the promise of better days, I find myself wishing to go back in time.
In the poem, I cut myself off before I can utter those words even in passing. For me, whenever I speak my thoughts into existence by writing or speaking them out loud, they feel so final, so binding. It solidifies how I’m feeling into a fact that will stubbornly not budge until I waste spend an entire day reconsidering how I’m feeling.
The right-aligned lines are the hopes and fears I have as I approach adulthood and eventually leaving my parents and home. Without exposing too much about myself because I’m already feeling uber vulnerable writing about my thought processes, I’m unhappy with how my parents are treating me at home (let’s just leave it at that…). I understand that all of my problems won’t be fixed as soon as I leave home but it’s the only thing that’s keeping me going — my hope. But there’s still that innate fear that I would have to crawl back home because I couldn’t handle the heat of independence and society, much like what my mother has conditioned me to think (despite knowing that I would thrive) — my fear.
Despite the anxiety that something may go terribly wrong, I would much rather see myself shrug off the childishness of childhood and awkwardness of teenhood and go straight to adulthood with all of its beautiful promises of autonomy, independence, and choice.
The last stanza repeats the first, because no matter what I beg for, I’m stuck in my seventeen-year-old body, all awkward and clumsy with the remnants of the chub from my childhood and body of a full-grown adult after puberty. And the best thing I can do is live in the moment so I don’t have any more regrets, work towards making those hopes a reality, and nip those fears right at the bud.
In the exact middle. Yup, that’s where I, Kae S., am in.
I hope this poem was somewhat relatable (for my teenage readers) or reminded of the teenage awkwardness you left behind (to my adult readers). Thank you for reading, and I’ll see you at the next poem!
applehotteok 