'Blue-Jeans' by Ravyn LaRue

I’ve finally bought jeans.
But that doesn’t make me a new person.
I’m still an unabashedly fat-ass.
My eyes still twitch.
I still joyously scream during scary movies.
I still annoy cafe-dwellers by writing poems all day.
I cry over comedies, when they catch me off guard.
I’m still years behind in journaling.
People like telling me, whenever I change something minor-
“You’re an entirely new person.”
But I’m just a canvas, painted and re-painted.
Someday it’ll all chip off.
But for now, I am all the colors of identity.
I have new patterns and pictures and forms to discover.
And the thought of what I’ll be next is exciting.
I may need to bring out the turpentine, but that just comes with the territory.
I put something new on my bucket list.
I shan’t spoil it, since you’re involved, but I’m excited.
I’m bringing an Addict angel with me, so that’ll be fun.
And I have an alias picked out.
It’ll be fabulous.
I might dedicate the outcome to a wise past prophet, but I’m still debating.
I miss him- drastically.
He made me who I am, and I know that probably contributed greatly to my lax moral code-
But I’m also infinitely more worldly and creative, due to the man-
So I’m thankful.
He blew his brains out when I was nine or ten.
I was naive and I didn’t get it until later, like ‘Sandy’s Song’.
He doesn’t feel dead in my mind.
I know he’d probably hate me, or at least chuckle to think someone as vanilla as I wants to be a fraction of him.
Still, I’m too independent, in spite of it all, to give a damn.
I’d like to call it iconoclastic.
I still hope to memorize his monologue, so when I have my adventure, I can have a contemplative moment where I sit down and recite it.
I can build around it, if need be.
Despite the nihilistic tone, I’m dumb enough to find hope within it’s words.
I do that a lot.
I find something meaningful and twist it to be positive for me, since the negative just breaks my heart.
It’s like the poem says-
“Nothing matters at all. Might as well be nice to people.”
I tell myself that whenever I feel sad.
I know it might be back-handed or whatever, but that’s how my brain works.
Straight out sunshine is less likely to register, but silver-lined clouds stick in my memory forever.
I have a horrible tendency to ramble.
And dart from one topic to something entirely unrelated.
All I wanted to tell you was that I finally found some jeans that fit.
Hooray for that!