I have to remind myself to breathe sometimes

swallowing gulps of air down my throat

I take another step, cautious

as the tunneling chaos bombards me.

I go from class to class, person to person, door to door

fulfilling my thirst for company, for new.

I want to be distracted,

forget that there is a soul in this body with a mind — a beautiful mind just waiting.

I avoid recognizing isolation,

I surround and engulf myself with each built environment,

an urban jungle awaits in the distance

visible to wandering, lingering eyes that cross the bridge.

I try to remember that the vacuum is full

of life, of people.

I sometimes have to say to myself

that I’m enough — that every person is an authentic creation.

I chase and I compromise,

bend and try,

I forget that most don’t sway so easily

that there are people who wouldn’t jump out of unanimity.

It’s easy to feel unloved — “un” like abrupt property theft,

stolen from my cherished belonging.

The word is tossed around too often,

It may be said and heard, but it escapes me.

I do not trust it.

I know its permanency, I know its destruction,

Its utterance is something of intimacy

not just romantic, more sensory.

A loveless existence is not one chosen by anyone.

I sense the harsh doors close from across campus,

I hear the window blinds shut endlessly.

I realize the benefit of taking a peak rather than absorbing it all at once.

What is seen is often dejected,

What is wanted is often not apparent.

Laughter makes me anxious now,

all that joy shooting bullets carelessly in the air.

I make amends with myself,

forgive such a tender, weak heart.

I hope to one day walk alongside another,

pairing my brain with theirs

sharing my thoughts with theirs.

I hear people talk about others

others they know nothing about,

trying to pick away at facades now deceased.

I miss the ocean tides,

I miss the sunshine and the sand,

all that sand that would stick

like the velcro shoes my mom would put my dainty feet into.

I used to detest those bright red emblems

— an homage to the myriad of decisions I had no say in

but then again I miss not having that responsibility

the unimaginable age where incapabilities had rational reason

only inhabited by the dependents,

take me back.

I miss those ugly velcro shoes — the ones all the kids wore.

I wear laces now — the kinds that adults wear.

I want to be assured that someplace, someone is still there

to help me with all the knots I can’t tie

and to remember whether the bunny goes in the hole or around the tree.

I feel an unprecedented amount of aging,

emerging from open pores, creaking in the silence.

It marinates in the ambiguous life — my life.

My life — I wonder

what would my encyclopedia brain say about it

“messy” “tumultuous” “erratic” — but no alphabetic letter combines the three

Would the definition stand out amidst the other

black printed letters on a page,

or would it camouflage seamlessly in fear of being picked on.

My life is this.

I don’t know yet,

I just don’t know.

I’m trying to accept that velcro shoes don’t fit my feet anymore

that I’ll have to remember where the bunny hops,

and that I wear laces now.

Time to time,

wave to wave,

skyline to skyline,

I miss my velcro shoes.