This is not a poem.

                  I feel 14 today.
                  And also 25.
                  I am me,
                  and four other people,
                      and ten more,
                      and then a million,
                  but also just one.

                               My new room is cozy

                               All that's missing

                                    is a bed, a closet, lamp

                                    something to sit on,

                                    and what makes a room..

                                                          ..a room.

                             But it belongs to me

                             The thought is cozy enough.

    I had a headache,
    so I took a nap
    a cold, disturbed nap.
    drank tea
    wore a sweater
         a rich green shade,
               No.
         An odd forest green
         that could be called emerald
         if it weren't so plain.
  Maybe not even then


                 I dislike all fiction that starts with 'She'
                              Hate is a strong word,
                                            yes.
                 But it puts me off.
                 I don't read things that start with 'She'
                                                        Or even 'he'
                 Come on I'm not sexist.

"All is One and One is All"
Someone asked my 6th grade history teacher,
about What this line meant
             She hesitated
And then said
    it was something beyond our level
    a complicated concept.
    and irrelevant to the chapter.
But because she hesitated,
    I was fascinated.
So i never forgot
those words or her hesitation.
And remember it even now
 when I am 25 and 14.