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Project Find Myself

In Progress

I miss the peaceful protest

against my youth, I had

forgotten what it was like to feel

alone in these hallow places.

Pieces of my teenage years

linger in small parts of me, I remember

the chaos that they brought to me.

I can't say I miss the broken me,

a girl scared of love and home.

Who retreated into herself at the thought of loving someone else.

Pushing friendships away in an attempt to keep my heart safe.

I miss the memories

of the loved ones I've lost, I wish

I could make just one more to hold on to.

Their voices here to soothe the ache their absence left.

I can't say that I've recovered yet,

lived a life full of half regrets.

Holding on to the parts of me I haven't lost yet.

They are gold you know.

I recklessly found ways to

drown out all of the pain, and yet

when they didn't work that way

I was left with a mess which I haven't had the courage to clean up.

I miss who I used to be, sometimes

the essence of friendships lost to me,

haunting my heart in yearning for them.

But it's been years, and we got older,

being left with only memories

of a childhood cut too short.

Abandoned too quickly,

for adult roles and grown up feelings.

Choices that shouldn't have had to be made.

I can't say that I miss the fighting,

just to wake up the next day.

Feelings of being flighty,

in a desperate attempt to just get away.

Run from the thoughts

The feelings, my life left in shattered remains.

Crushed, burned, re-birthed

Into a woman, into a fighter.

From the intoxication of hope

to numb the shards of glass in my stomach,

to cure the screaming in my mind.

To the cuts, burns and bruises

promising temporary relief from an insanity handed down to me.

I am second handedly crazy,

losing my mind

in an attempt to be normal.

I miss the obliviousness that

only a young person can bury

when shackled with responsibilities

that her weak arms can no longer carry.

I'm different now,

amidst a freedom I'm not used too

sometimes missing the confines that

comforted me when I'd give up.

I am not proud of who I used to be 

but I'm working hard towards the best for me,

and maybe one day,

when I believe that I am enough,

I will see that I deserve this life after all. 

Raquel Hopkins
Raquel Hopkins

I am a 24 year old writer and poet from Canada. About a year ago I decided to share my poetry which is very intimate to me. My hope is that through poetry I'll reach people who find comfort in my words and realize they aren't alone. 

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Project Find Myself
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