Emerging Adulthood

Jumping on the mattress was the closest
I ever felt to God
as a kid-
knowing ceiling fans kiss foreheads
the same way fingers forming
the sign of the cross can.
I'm still waiting for that fear of flying to kick in,
to remember Newton's law
does not exclude mid air engines
or the flailing arms of hypomanic depressives
caught up in a princess complex,

tying to find something
synonymous with meaning
because I never understood how
people could trust
that everything happens for a reason
while I'm having a hard time believing
I am anything more than
a few genes that drew straws
when trying to decide who I would
remind my grandparents of.

I have weak ankles
and weak spots scattered in between
freckles where they said God kissed me
as a child
so what does it mean now that they're gone?

I'm learning unconditional anything
can also mean temporary.
I know hindsight isn't always 20/20.
I know Achilles was expecting a chest shot.
I know blunt force head traumas
have been known to alter personalities
but that doesn't make it
appropriate to ask strangers to hit me.
I know the oldest living woman is 115.

She's seen the rise and fall of whole nations,
the cease of restaurant smoking sections
yet I feel sick when people show me
their engagement rings.

I'm too young to be receiving junk mail
and baby shower invitations.
Too young for interrogations concerning
latest loves
and first kisses
so I quit smoking again
to see if I'm actually an addict
or if I just like having an excuse to be
alone for ten minutes-
no questions asked.

There's a space between
my fingertips and
the high expectations where my tongue
has learned to twist syllables
into stutters during every conversation
I wish I could do over.
I've been trying to untangle the heartstrings
and the headaches
and every letter I wrote that never made it
to the mailbox.
Every letter I wrote that never made it
past the pen tip
because I've got at least ten years
of anecdotal evidence
that thinking before speaking is advice
that should have never been given...

at least not to me.
I'm still struggling
to master the art of finishing a sentence
without biting my nails at the thought
of what comes after it.
I miss rhetorical conversation
and books with pictures in them.

I'm too old now to need
the television left on to fall asleep
but it makes me think
for a minute
that maybe I'm still small enough
to carry
up to bed and I miss the guarantee
of apologies from bullies.
Gapped teeth and tangled hair-
I miss aching for a sunroof
to stick my hands up through
with no one was
watching.

2013