Where I'm From

I come from a small town,

which seems to get smaller and smaller with every passing moment.



I'm from a house

That never really felt like home.



From a bedroom with "Home Town Hero" blue walls,

covered in River Phoenix posters

and stars hanging from the ceiling.



I come from long drives on summer nights,

Watching fireflies light up the trees like Christmas.



I'm from SUPERNATURAL reruns,

and Mountain Dew addictions.



I come from Second-hand smoke,

and Kitchen walls that are the same color as my Grandma's teeth.



From chipped nail polish,

and mascara-stained cheeks.



I'm from instant mashed potatoes,

except on holidays,

and avoiding phone calls from relatives,

unless there's a death in the family.



I'm from lyrics to songs i'll never finish writing

scribbled in notebooks,

and reminders of homework i'll never do

written on my wrist.



I'm from pet rocks,

Hello-Kitty Band-Aids,

and paintings of evil cupcakes.



From heartbroken "Goodbye"s

to Nervous "Hello"s.



From a School full of crazy teachers

who are over-worked and under-paid,

and self-absorbed classmates

who fall in and out of love with each other on a daily basis.



I come from the morning ritual of looking in the mirror,

seeing his brown eyes staring back at me,

and being reminded that he will ALWAYS be a part of me,

whether I like it or not.



I'm from smart-a** remarks

and heart-felt "I Love You"s.



From dreams of getting as far away from this place as possibly possible,

but fears of missing who i'll have to leave behind.



I'm from Ranch Dressing-flavored anything,

to an "I won't eat that piece of seafood for a million dollars" attitude.



From failed attempts,

but determination to keep going.



From borrowed eyeliner

and shared secrets.



From an alcoholic father,

an over-worked mother,

and a run-away sister.



I come from cheating boyfriends,

back-stabbing "best friend"s,

and one TRUE friend who's always been there for me.



From Secondhand Serenade-filled nights,

to days that just WON'T seem to end.



I'm from waking up at 3 in the morning,

stumbling around in the dark for a pen,

and writing down what ever's on my mind.



From receiving dirty looks from people who don't even know me,

to laughing at their willingness to believe everything they hear ABOUT me.



I'm from pencil-smeared drawings

to Marker-stained fingertips.



I come from blanket forts at seventeen,

and an occasional episode of "Blue's Clues",

just because I feel like it.



I'm from nights of sleeping in contacts,

and mornings with swollen eyes

and regrets of not taking them out.



I'm from strong opinions

and hurt feelings.



From broken traditions

and broken promises.



From natural curls

and false hope.



I'm from blaring music

and damaged eardrums.



From left-handed pride

to cross-eyed insecurities.





I'll never forget where I'm from.