A Year Older

May 3rd, 2025

The realization came hours later. 

Another year has passed me. 

Escaped me. 

Slipped through my clasped, trembling hands. 

I stood there waiting for a significant feeling to greet me, 

but no one did. 

I could’ve sworn when I looked in the mirror I felt older. 

Nineteen doesn’t wear me well. 

Years younger, 

I was contorted to act the age I am now. 

They pulled at all my limbs. 

Held on tight, tugged hard, stretched me thin. 

Making me seem bigger, act older. 

All to fit the designated role given to me. 

I suppose I never got out of that cycle 

But here I am, alive another year. 

Eleven year old me would be seeing stars. 

How far we have come, my dear. 

A year older,

the way I cry is different now. 

I do it in someone’s arms rather than holding onto my own for dear life. 

Running away from home has its tragedies, 

but I can’t ignore that I’m happier this way. 

A year older, 

and my mother’s hand recoils when I reach out. 

Maybe I don’t need her, 

maybe I’ll be okay without her. 

But if I didn’t need her, why did I come from her?

Doesn’t that suggest some kind of reliance?

There will always be questions.  

A year older,

and I don’t fear turning gray, 

I welcome that wisdom with open arms. 

I hope to see many more years, 

and understand that in the end, I’ll be okay.