I am only who I am, and I celebrate and cherish that person
No one can question what I do or how I think
For I shall never know the thoughts which play inside your head
My identity formed from my heritage and stories of my origins
as yours is from histories and anecdotes as well
I, at eighteen years of age feel fully formed in who I am,
but know that there is still room for growth.
I shall speak my mind fully and never check my tongue,
because I fear of being offensive or un-politically correct.
2.
As a child, when others formed my thoughts and values,
I never questioned or doubted
But with age comes awareness, epiphanies and revelations
and I came to know that I had to seek truths for myself.
Why are the happier histories of our time and rituals taught to youngsters?
only for them to become disillusioned when faced with the truth as young adults.
Have I not seen, heard or read the truth in print?
The beauty of this world that surrounds and intoxicates me,
inspires and drives me
But is so often marred by the selfish acts of those who inhabit it
If you find me a pessimist, and feel that I put the weight of the world on my shoulders,
Again, I remind you,
Do not question my thought processes or my emotions
I accept them, and cannot control them and would never change,
that which makes me who I am.
No one can be taught from me, or look through my eyes,
but one can listen to my story and formulate ideals for yourself,
if you feel you can be taught by my experiences.
3.
Does anyone know that we are born to live but ultimately die,
at unfullfilling, unpredictable times,
leaving unfinished deeds behind
I can’t change time or bring back those I’ve lost,
And even if I could, I would not,
Because without my grief, and the overcoming of it,
my triumphs over emotion and acceptance of loss,
I would not be who I am.
4.
I can’t fit myself to a stereotype as others mold themselves to be,
The outcast stands alone, hindered by fear of others,
isolated from society
The jocks and preppies, mold themselves into their own models of perfection
The pseudo-intellectuals, who try too hard to be deep thinkers
The goth-girls who don’t receive attention from beauty
seek it by making themselves oddities
The depressed youth searching for a friend to confide in,
but not able to communicate his hurt
The school spirit fiends and kissups
longing for approval
The druggies and new wave hippies searching for escape,
And all the other youths who have no definitions but roam through life,
unnoticed and undefined yet content with themselves
I am just like them all, and have the same tendencies
and feelings, emotions, fears, qualms, anxieties
Though we seem outwardly different we all struggle with identity
And parts of them make up parts of me
And from them all the music of my soul is created,
And God and I compose the song of myself.
5.
So, why do I write this,
Tell you who I am
Would you tell me?
We pass our lives on this earth together,
just a blink in the eye of eternity
We are all equal and each new life that enters this world
Brings new richness, new virtues, and vitality
Neither of us is greater than any other
And we can not judge greatness or worth ourselves
Have others judged you?
Have you been treated unfairly?
overwhelmed by hurt and despair?
Or were you loved, comforted, exalted or idolized?
Once we leave this world, and our memory fades,
will it matter who loved or despised us?
6.
I look towards the horizon and greet the shadow fast approaching,
I accept my fate and do not cry or grovel.
I will return to the earth that shaped me, and greet those ancestors
Who lived in me and I never knew
You, my friend, will do well without me
And I almost hope will forget me, and keep those qualities which I helped shape
I shall watch over you,
Bless and keep you
Till the day when you remember me and return
Listen to others but shape yourself
I will watch from afar waiting for the day when we meet again,
And I can hear the song which you composed.
