My Linh Tran
I fish you out from my dusty shoebox
which has silently spent a decade in the closet no one looks after.
You, my sweet dreams, my wet dreams, uncensored stuff.
You, my seventeen, my first love, my first enemies.
You, my diary.
Was I this rebellious at 17,
writing the word “fuck” sixteen times on one page?
I was the girl with braces on her teeth, and glasses that covered her whole face
a nerd, people might say,
But at heart, I was a rebel.
Dear diary,
Open
Let me revisit my younger self.
Chicago, December 25, 2014
