My Life Resume

I was eight when I had my first experience with fear of extreme anger,
And I was practically silent when I was nine because of it,
I remember forcing myself to get over my social anxiety when I was ten,
And by the time I was eleven I moved school districts and out of the ghetto,
It took me until twelve to have friends once again,
But then I was thirteen when I had my first surprise party,
At fourteen I was first exposed to casual wealth,
And it was when I was fifteen that I realized I was a nerd,
At sixteen I traveled to my first international country,
And at seventeen I lost my father,
By the time I turned eighteen I lost all sense of the identity I once held,
I chose to finally lose my virginity at nineteen with a boy who I trusted,
And I chose to move to another country when I was just twenty,
I lived the life of a drunken vagrant when I was twenty-one,
And I landed my first salaried position at the age of twenty-two,
I was hospitalized four different times at the age of twenty-three,
And stopped drinking by the time I was twenty-four,
I found a release in writing when I was twenty-five,
And by twenty-six I was back at square one,
Now at twenty-seven I am discovering who I am supposed to be and what I can truly achieve.
The milestones mean nothing in the end,
And age is inconsequential.
Every defining moment I had can be summarized and excused in one line,
And while my resume holds nothing but facts,
My mind holds nothing but endless dreams,
But there is no place for me to combine the two and show myself what I have achieved.
Facebook isn’t an accurate portrayal of what I do with my social life,
And LinkedIn doesn’t even begin to describe the experiences I’ve had to pay the bills,
Instagram provides only the highlights of life,
And Twitter only offers a snapshot of my random thoughts.
The only thing I can trust any more is my writing,
And even that I have created a bias within,
Choosing to only share the thoughts I think my be worthy of my pen.
Where is the honest reflection I am searching for?
And where is the scrapbook that outlines all the experiences I’ve had in life?
Who can recount all of my life experiences in detail for me?
And who would really care about what I did ten years ago?
I do.
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