Rereading Angsty Stuff I Wrote

 A month ago, I  decided to revisit some documents that I didn't look at for a long time because I thought they would help me with my memoir. When I read poems I wrote for my eighth grade and ninth grade English poetry unit, I couldn't believe that I experienced so much angst during that time. I also cringed while reading them because I had a short phase during my teenage years thinking that I could write poetry as long as I formatted my thoughts into verses. I titled the Google document as Just My Thoughts- Poems and shared it with my close friend for them to contribute their poems.  I kind of ignored that period because nothing much eventful happened and I don't like reminding myself all the time that I struggled socially and emotionally. 

Here are some sad poems that I wrote for eighth-grade English: 

I wish... 

I wish I can have more self-confidence.

I wish I can be honest about my feelings. 

I wish I can have a more meaningful life. 

I wish I can be happier. 

I wish I can go back to my childhood. 

I wish I can never grow up.     

Growing Up

Why do kids grow up so fast? 

Maybe it's because I am stuck in the wrong body.

My soul feels that I don’t want to be a teenager.

Perhaps it is because I am in the wrong place at the wrong time, 

Looking around the sea of teens that just seem out of the place. 

Makeup, dirty jokes, dating, just bleh. 

They possibly moved on and left their childhood, 

Letting go of their past with the memories 

Starting to become cloudy.

Here are some nostalgic poems that I wrote for my ninth-grade English: 

The Way Things Should Have Been 

Every day, I wish that my life could go the way I want it to be, 

But life is never fair. Life doesn’t care if you don’t want some events to happen. 

Life tells you to suck it up and accept the truth.

If I could decide what my life should be, 

It would be the following things. 

I would not have to leave Taipei, because Taipei 

Means so much to me to this day. 

I should have stayed there till I graduated from Taipei American School.

TAS is my treasure chest, it has everything that I want but don’t have anymore.

The biggest precious treasure in it is Orphanage Club, it contains the many memories 

And experiences that I want to repeat. 

Life would go smoother if I still stayed there.

Because I moved, I must restart my life

 and start from nothing. 

But there is a voice that says to me,

“You can not keep thinking of the past. 

You need to embrace change, and move on for a new beginning.” 

The angry voice inside of me rebukes, 

“Why should I listen to you? I want to go back to the good old days.” 

The other voice sighs and waits, and says, 

“Just make the best use of what you have here and be optimistic. 

Just because you moved doesn’t mean your journey ends here.”  

Reminiscent

My heart yearns to go back to Taipei, 

For it was the golden age of my life. 

I try to grasp the precious moments, 

But they are flying away from my clenched hands. 

I yell, “Come back to me!” But they ignore my wails.

I cry in anguish, because I can not relive the past. 

As I look at the scrapbook photos,

It makes me smile wistfully, 

but my heart stings with pain.

That was the different Vivian, the Vivian that was happier, 

Who actually had a life. Who was more carefree

 and had this zeal that kept her going, 

who woke up every morning with energy and passion.

Those pillars have now crumbled, 

so she must rebuild herself, step by step.

I keep telling myself to move on,

But my heart is like lead, unable to accept the truth. 

My mind is in the past while my body is in the present. 

I try to embrace change, but I am like Tantalus, trying to bite into 

The fruit that contains the sweet moments, 

But I never reach it because as time passes, it is farther away from my reach. 

Rereading what I wrote was strange. I felt so removed from the writer even though the writer was my fourteen-year-old self. Right after I read them, I wanted to go back in time so badly and tell my past self that life would get better, even though it didn't seem like the case. I wished I could let her see how she changed and grew over the course of four years in high school. I wanted to be by her side, holding her hand, reassuring her that as much as it seemed like she could never be as happy as before, she would thrive. 

Reading the I Wish... poem was depressing because I still have these wishes. While I have changed for the better in some ways, I am still stuck in other aspects. I have yet to perceive myself as good-looking. I still dismiss some of my feelings because I think these feelings are dumb and irrational. I criticize myself for not being involved enough in my community while others around me are so passionate and committed. 

A recurring theme I noticed in my eighth-grade poems is my internal struggle of leaving behind childhood and growing up. During middle school, I was upset that I couldn't go back to being a carefree, innocent child. I didn't like how others around me were trying so hard to grow up and act like adults when they could instead embrace the last few moments of childhood. This theme reminds me of The Catcher in the Rye, a book I recently read. I didn't enjoy the book in the beginning, but by the end of it, I somehow grew sympathetic to Holden Caulfield, the main character. 

On the other hand, my ninth-grade poems had this intense bitterness and despair that stemmed from nostalgia and homesickness. As I said before, I kind of blocked out those thoughts because I didn't like thinking about the time when I had no friends and was stuck in a metaphorical pit. As time passed, my brain somewhat overlooked these feelings and forgot about what my exact emotional state was like. 

Overall, I find it interesting to reread poems I wrote ages ago because it is a different experience compared to reading past diary entries I wrote. My diary entries were recounts of events in my everyday life, whereas these poems provided greater emotional weight.