The Quirks of Being Me

I live for the heaviness of my head from swaying to too loud music through the night
Under a swirling Picasso sky

I live for the uneven bursts of spastic creativity like caffeine, frizzled, frantically writing so fast that I forget to put the ending syllable on the pencil scratch

I live for the spicy, heartwarming taste of chai
The feel of worn leather soothing a cold, shaking hand

For 48 hour drives of
Road tripping
Clocks not tickin’
Speakers laughing out the song “safe and sound”
The indescribable feeling that you have when you haven’t showered in three days

I live for watermelon dripping days, the spit of the sprinkler, uneven tans, gangly intertwined legs in the hammock

I live for the galloping explosion of a heart and sudden lack of oxygen
When the person talks to you, walks with you, and god forbid smiles at you

I live for the liquid sunshine
coursing through my veins
For something I can finally call mine
Maniacal cackling, and an aftershock of giggles

I live for the intoxicating smell of rain

I live to search soulful eyes

For “Is this what normal people do on the weekends?”
To, “Did Albert Einstein have two brains?”

I live to breathe in the crisp air on early morning runs
For the squeal of gym floor underfoot
Calls for the ball rolling across turf

I live for hating my brain
When it points accusingly and says
“You’re different”

I live for the little girl inside me who can’t seem to accept that being a dog when you grow up is not a realistic career choice

I live recklessly and rambunctiously
I live for life’s best ideas, when saying fuck it
And going through with it is the best choice

I live for the sunrises and sunsets I haven’t even seen yet

I live to learn to love
To love people, friends and enemies alike
To love the world
To love myself

I live to change the world
I live for the ones who can’t

And I hope that by the time my life drips away
I can finally say
I lived

 

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