I am From (March 25, 1998)

I am from spending endless hours

In the library, listening to the tantalizing whispers

Of the countless books surrounding me.

I am from the salty tears floating

Down my grubby face when I fall

On the ground, and from opening my

Eyes in the filthy ocean water, looking

For shells or hermit crabs.

I’m from the deafening silence of the

Night, creeping up on me and circling

Around my throat, choking me. I’m

From pulling an all-nighter by myself,

My stuffed animals and I huddled together,

An anxious expression coated on my face

As I watch with wide-eyed concentration,

Searching my bare room for

Ghosts and spirits.

I am from writing ten pages when

Only two pages were required, and

From lugging around three Harry Potter

Books at a time during

The second grade.

I’m from burrowing my face in my

Tear-drenched pillow, bawling over the

Loss of a friend. I’m getting scolded in class

For talking too much and from thinking the

World will end because of that one B in between

All of the A’s on my report card.

I am from the moldy smell of my

Dad’s office, the shocking feeling of

Burning my tongue on the scorching hot chocolate

That I was supposed to wait five minutes

Before drinking.

I am from Clinton, Connecticut,

My mom all-Mexican and my dad

All-American, from everyone asking me for

Help on their Spanish homework because

They’re too stupid to do it themselves.

I am Stephanie, and I am what I am from.