Demon of My Thoughts

I remember in sixth grade, there was this thing

I would do during lunch,

that I called the “Ally Dance.”

I would dance in the commons,

with a scarf wrapped around my head.

And I remember, I knew that people were watching me.

Some people were even staring at me like I was insane.

But I didn’t care that people were watching.

I was happy,

I was having fun, so, I didn’t care what they thought.

 

Sometimes, now, though, I wonder why

sixth grade Ally seems to have left me.

Why I don’t seem to have her

vivacity and spirit and confidence anymore.

And I worry that I am just a shell of her,

an empty casing of who I once was.

Something that can’t be filled.

Just empty. Just listening.

Listening to the voice in my head that tells me to be silent.

“Don’t say that, people will think you’re insane.”

“Don’t walk like that, it’s awkward.”

“Don’t make eye contact with people, you’re not brave enough.”

“What do you have to say that is worth listening to?”

 

But you know what demon of my thoughts?

I’m sick you telling me

how to feel and what to do and what to think.

I don’t want to be afraid after I speak up in class.

And I don’t want to feel like I constantly have to hide,

And I don’t want to feel awkward in my own skin anymore.

I’m tired of constantly being self aware

and wondering if the people around me think I’m weird.

I’m tired of my heart racing after a normal conversation.

I’m tired of feeling uncertain and unsteady and insecure.

I’m tired of listening to my fears, to you, that tell me to

sit down, shut up and look away.

 

I don’t want to keep pretending

that I feel fine being complacent

And pretending I’m shy,

And sitting on the sidelines.

Because I’m not,

And I’m tired of pretending that I am.

That’s not me, and I’m tired of listening to you.

 

You seem to have forgotten

or are just ignoring all the times I have stood up

and said, this is who I am.

And you make me forget too.

But I remember now.

I am sixth grade Ally.

I am the girl who wasn’t afraid to dance in the commons,

with a scarf on her head.

I am brave

I am fun.

I stand up and speak my mind,

because my thoughts are valid,

And I don’t have to justify my existence to you.

To anyone.

 

Demon of my thoughts,

You know my weaknesses and you prey on them.

So let me show you my strengths.

I'm not listening anymore.

This poem is about: 
Me

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