I wrote this to remind myself who I am—and who I am not—when I sometimes forget.

I wrote this to remind myself to listen when my body tells me to leave and seek peace. To remind myself that home is not found in others, but rather—it’s in what brings unrelenting, exhilarating, unparalleled bliss. I wrote this to remind myself that home is to travel, to live, to talk to strangers, to exude passion. I wrote this to serve as a map home whenever I am lost.

I am true North.

~

I am not calm waters for you to wade your feet in
I am the undertow pulling you to the depths gasping for air

I am not the damsel or the princess.
I am the monster and I will devour you only for you to slay me from within

I am not forever
I have no roots and no loyalty
I am free
I will run in the direction of unfamiliarity and adventure
Without warning, without saying goodbye
Without really wanting to leave at all

I am not made of stone
I burn, yearn, bleed and rip apart at the seams when not handled with care or compassion
When not handled with fragility

I am not a harlot
I only seek love by dancing the night away with devils, jesters and ardorless men who part their lips and trace my skin without passion
I am forsaken

I am not a trophy paraded before the masses to establish your ego
I am your Achilles heel and I will watch as your hubris destroys you
As your pride destroys us

I am not flawless
My nails are chipped and my hair is tangled and I will not apologize for not being plastic or pretty or
perfect enough for you

I am not lion-hearted
I am a scaredy cat left to lick my wounds when the mouse becomes the hunter and I do not get the cream

I am not crazy
I have strong convictions about how I should be loved and I have no time for the faint-hearted or the fickle
For one who knows nothing of love or sacrifice but wears his apathy as a badge of honor

I am not pious
My moral fabric is worn and faded
I have risen after being cast down by an unforgiving lover
Forgive me father for I have sinned
I have bitten from the apple
I have preyed

I am not a cool drink of water
I will not adulterate myself so that I am easy to swallow or choke down
So that I am easier to chase
I am rough around more than just my edges

I am abrasive
I am discordant, a cacophony of sweet nothings and battle cries

I am the silence after “I love you”
While you wait with baited breath to be saved or slaughtered

I am zealous
Rabid with the notion that life is about being destroyed and then finding beauty in the disarray
Rather than turning to stone from looking truth dead in the eyes

I am an enigma, a conundrum
I am a riddle that you cannot solve or piece together
I am the labyrinth that you sought your way out of- too eager to escape
I am a glutton for punishment but I find myself famished and starved in your absence
I will no longer devour your scraps

I am leaving you
I am finding myself
I am true north
And you, my dear, are lost

.

Author: Monica Torres

Editor: Yoli Ramazzina

Photo: Author’s own.