Where I'm From

"Remember kid,

Don't breathe under water and keep moving your limbs."

I am from the chlorine in the pool,

the eye-burns and the raisin-fingers.

I am from the playground sand,

from the chases and the swinging from bar to bar.

Then the ringing of the bell.

I'm from the red fonts on my paper:

clean, clear, and judging.

I am from the late nights and early mornings,

the tick-tocks and half-open eyes

seeing the world differently after every alarm.

I am from the anthem of the traffic,

the uncomfortable seats

and screams of second-graders.

I am from a city that never sleeps.

Street lights as blinding as day

and towers that touch the white-hot sun.

Then people.

People everywhere.

Passersby, onlookers, friends, and family.

And there's me,

a drop of water from

the Pearl river gleaming beside.




365 days and the sun comes up every one of them, each time as unequivocally similar as the day before. It seems so redundant and natural, almost so natural that we don't consider how improbable the very idea of existence is. It's easy to dwell upon the natural phenomena that are both apparent and unapparent to us. What school does is it induces the apparition of those dwellings. Each answer leads to another wondering, and each wondering to a question. Each piece of knowledge is but another piece of the puzzle that forces us to realize the absence of the piece beside it. And so life goes on. I wake up every morning eager to go to school. What a load of pure crap. Sometimes I wake up and it all seems so misty, and maybe that's why I want to start writing. Somewhere along the road I have been convinced that I am gifted enough to do great things in life. Being above average comes with its duties, and sometimes I wake up not remembering all of them, which is why I then lie back down on my pillow and update myself on the lives of other people through the miracle of the internet, thinking that it will somehow fulfill my thirst for meaning. What a load of pure crap.