My Life In Four Parts

I

When we were kids

My brother and I would play

A game called slow race

I don’t know if that was when I learnt how fast time travels

But I take steps shorter than that now when I say goodbye to him

II

When I was a girl, and only half a daughter

I dreamt of my father, wearing that orange polo shirt that I loved

I don’t know if that’s why I still dream in that colour sometimes

Or if that’s why sunset is still my favourite shade of the sky

But “Does he miss me?” is a question that no longer hangs in my mind

Like empty frames on a wall in a half empty house

III

When I knew that I would write,

I did not write about how sometimes I went days without living

And how my body often felt like it had way too much room for someone as infinitesimal as me

I don’t know if that’s when I stopped recognising myself in mirrors

But I am still unlearning how to hate my body

I did not write about how school felt like a crime scene that only I could see

And how the yellow tape tightened around my neck each day

My mental illness disrupting extracurriculars

Instead I wrote about love,

It was the only thing I thought I did right

But it wasn’t until recently that I found out

There is no talent hunt

For the heartbroken

IV

When I was a girl,

My mother taught me how to be a woman

Without saying a single word

That was when I learnt

That you don’t need to revolt to cause a revolution