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The Way I Felt InsideIt was the way he sat by me,
Calm, but miraculously genius,
And oh, how he smiled.
I would melt inside,
He did that to me.
He didn't have to be someone else,
He is him and I am me,
That's what made everything better.
Catch a fluttering butterfly,
Tell me how it felt,
Times that by a million,
Then you'll know how I felt.
That static or spark of love,
When we touched,
Felt like a reminder.
He was something, I would catch myself saying,
Is that what love is?
That's the way I felt.
I was terribly wrong.
Teenage TaoismGiving birth is the closest I’d ever felt to dying.
Before that, my near death experiences had consisted only of my silent announcement of pregnancy—silent, being that my social media accounts were all deleted almost simultaneously and I never returned to school in the fall, saying without really saying that I had caught the malicious disease of “teenage pregnancy”. I’m sure the whisper spread in the hallways like the Bubonic Plague. That September, sitting at home on what would have been the first day of my senior year, I imagined friends I’d never talk to again saying “she was only seventeen, and so full of life!” at my absence in the cafeteria tables, as if they were attending my funeral instead of talking about me behind my back.
"Full of life," I had snorted then, folding a never ending stream of what had once been my own baby clothes. "Literally."
I walked around like a zombie for the months of my pregnancy, deciding t
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