A/N; No, my name is not Indian.


Freshman year. Done, gone, passed.

I wonder if I'll remember thirty years from now,

When my face wore a mask to hide the youthful features,

When I shuffled along unlike the others, who stopped to talk to each other

Over my head, and across the hall,

Because they were big enough,

And old enough,

And they thought they were on top of the world.

Will I think that I am big enough?

Or old enough?

Or on top of the world?

Or will I stop growing like the others?

Would they leave me behind?

My freshman year.

When I was learning what to wear,

And realizing I didn't care.

When I was crushing on a guy, so hard,

That I invented a way to text in the shower.

When my hands were calloused from writing so much,

Because that was the only way to talk.

When everyone scowled at you once they knew what you were,

And you hung your head shamefully, because,

Yes, you are an insignificant freshman,

And you don't know what to do,

And you don't know what to say.

I think I might miss my freshman year,

If I remember some of the better times.

Like when I found my voice in the written word,

And when I discovered boys do like me.

Or when I went to church and found my faith was stronger than ever,

Despite the haters and deceivers that followed me at school.

Those times seemed quiet compared to the ones that were not so

Happy or sunny.

Perhaps the time that boy lied,

And said he liked me,

When he liked somebody else.

I didn't like that.

Or when I tore my hair out for assignments that meant little to me,

Who saw the world as so much more than knowing what was and is.

I didn't like that.

Or when even those closest to me

Did not care to know what I felt, or what I thought.

I didn't like that.

Or when I tried to find me inside someone that the others didn't like or didn't want.

I didn't like that.

But I did like the end of it all, when I realized it all came down to what I love, and that is


The words that are in black on white,

And printed neatly in my mind.

The words that do not require sound that I cannot hear anyway,

The words that carry me away to a place that does not care about

Lies and Love

And hate with passion.

There is the place I will stay,

Forever after my freshman year.