Dear Ten Year Old Aemon,

Thu, 02/08/2018 - 22:35 -- aemonf

Dear Ten Year Old Aemon,

You were not called Aemon when you were 10 years old,
In fact,  you had an entirely different name which you have not come to hate yet, but you are slowly growing to.
You have not gotten your first period yet, but you will, soon.
And you will grow to hate that too.
The same way you refuse to wear a training bra even when your mom tells you that it's improper to see a young lady's nipples.
I speak from memory.
The unfortunate memory of being almost a decade older than you and still feeling almost as lost as you did, trying to understand why the sevens times table was so hard.
And even though the sevens times table is still difficult, I now worry instead as to why using the public restroom has to be hard.
Emotionally. 
 

Dear Ten Year Old Aemon,

I am writing to you on the account that I am no longer you.
I don't know if I ever was, to be truthful, yet I still love words the way you do.
I love the way that my words can be used to describe me and all of those around me.
Yet I no longer love the words that described most of you.
"Cutesy."
"Feminine."
"Girly."
I no longer love you.
 

Dear Ten Year Old Aemon,

How can I be writing to you if there never was a Ten Year Old Aemon?
I was born when I was Thirteen.
I was not of you or your body.
I was born of me.
A separate being from you and what you represented.
 

Dear Ten Year Old Aemon,

I am sorry for having disappointed you.
I never grew to be the pretty girl you wanted to be,
I grew the breasts and hips,
Only to have the breasts be removed and the hips covered by baggy jeans.
All that remains is chromosomes.
 

Dear Ten Year Old Aemon,

I wish that I got to meet you.
There is so much that I should and would say if I could.
Yet it is up to you to find me.
You know that I'm there.
I know you can do it.
 

Dear Ten Year Old Aemon,

There is so much waiting for you.
 

 

 

Go get it.

With love,

Aemon.

This poem is about: 
Me

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