"I am. I am. I am."

That's what Sylvia said

to describe the beating of her heart;

her existence.

 

I am not Sylvia.

I cannot put my whole being into just two words,

nor can I put it into a few simple sentences,

bounded by capital letters and periods.

 

All I can provide are snapshots of who I am through the stanzas to come.

 

I am the girl

you bullied in the beginning of high school

because my passion 

for different formations of twenty six letters

and the emotions they could bring on

was different than your passion

of bringing other people down to make yourself rise above.

 

I am the girl

who cried when you left

who was heartbroken when you suddenly “fell out of love”

who was alone when she stopped putting the needs of others

before her own.

 

I am the girl

who is scared of her own reflection

because of the scars left behind

by the plastic back she wore for three years

trying to heal her physical deformity,

meanwhile breaking her mentality

into tiny, fragile pieces.

 

But, most importantly,

I am the girl

who does not live defined by her past.

 

Instead,

I am the girl

who looks to the future for better days to come

and hopes to be defined by greatness one day.