The Undergrad Archive

What parts of ourselves have gone missing, what has yet to be fully expressed, and what parts of ourselves did we forget even existed?

Underneath it all, 
where am I?

3 sips of black coffee and,
4 capsules of vitamin D,
curling into my stomach acid.

Yet to call the doctor,
yet to put away the laundry,
yet to “get a move on,” 
as my father would say.

Bathing with 2 cups of Epsom salts,
listening to water against porcelain,
and the voice of Ram Dass.

I dunk my head under,
hair swirling intotentacles,

           She hibernates in the back of my mind,    
                 cuddly and curled in warm blanket.
                       she rests so soft and sweet,
                             I dare not wake her.

I blow bubbles,
come up for air,
this body turns 23 tomorrow.

---

Over the weekend, I found myself going through old creative writing class notebooks from my Undergrad at the University of Toronto. What a treasure trove of bad writing, but also pieces that would’ve been otherwise lost to time if I hadn’t gone through these notebooks. Each time I go back to my old writing I find myself remembering why it is that I write. This piece specifically is such a time capsule for a distinct time in my life. I felt so lost and deeply detached from everything. But yet, I was not detached from my words.

This poem is just the first of an archive I want to continue to explore and expand from. Editing peices becomes so much easier when they are years old, and when I don’t feel the pressure of my teacher and peers. I am seeing everything from a new vantage point, a point from where I have read more and lived more. I did my best to preserve the integrity of the original piece, but made a few tweaks to the rhythm and wording that can only be made with distance and time.

I encourage anyone and everyone to go through their old writing, see what parts of themselves have gone missing, what has yet to be fully expressed, and what parts of ourselves did we forget even existed?