love letter to 16 yr old me

to the girl who kept her diary like religion —

you were always too large for your 16 year old skin

psychically bound to emotions that would burst

at the seams of your newly sewn arms

hands too small to hold up your head

too uncomely to hold other hands.

they would never understand that imperfect is a sensation you can feel

inching within your skin

(it’s contagious, you swore)

how often you wondered if

virgo moon earthly bound stomach aching tendencies would ever dissipate or

if there was something intrinsic about the nature of your worry

when your skin turns over at age 17

it’ll have all seemed so small