To The Lost Ones (Spoken Word)

#SpokenWordSaturday

I’m not sure who I’m supposed to become.
It’s funny,
I’ve had this image plastered to a vision board for years.
Words like:
Happiness.
Self-sufficient.
Writer.
Photos of couples kissing.
Yeah it’s true,
I would make a whole damn collage of love
if it was somehow a guarantee I’d have it forever.


I read through old journals,
my achievements, sprinkled.
Some, that I’ve done.
Some, that I’m so far from.
Like doing a spoken word tour,
or being able to pay back my mom for everything,
not just monetarily.
But be somehow able to give her something
that expresses the gratitude
for everything she did,
that she didn’t let me slip through the cracks
when I was being sucked into a black hole.
The light at end of the tunnel was her hand,
And somehow we made it through.

I look at photos of myself in high school.
I didn’t know who I was.
Fuck,
I still don’t know.
But I keep searching for those words like
Happiness.
Self-sufficient.
Satisfied.

But I can’t be satisfied with singular definitions.
I’m not supposed to just be happy,
Or just the girl who entertains you through a screen.
Or doesn’t.
Fails to,
But tries.
God, gotta love me for trying,
right?

I’m 22,
going on 23.
Unsure if I’m chasing after something
or if something is chasing me.
Because either way,
I’m running.
Can’t you feel
my feet smacking the pavement?
I can hear percussion in my ear drums,
That bass.
That boom.
It’s my heart beat telling me I’m alive.
I gotta keep moving.
I don’t know who I am,
Or who I’m supposed to be.
but do any of us?


Tell me.
Tell me.

Do you know who you’re supposed to be?
Because this unknown,
that lack of clarity,
it’s okay.

It’s okay to feel.
You got up.
You are here today,
and maybe that’s enough.
You’ve got air in your lungs.
Why aren’t we celebrating that?
Why aren’t we excited to just be here?
Instead of seeking words like:
Happiness.
Accomplished
Stop it,
stop it.

You are here,
and alive.
I never wanna forget
that I’m even allowed the opportunity to sit around
and wonder who I am.
Or who I should be.
I could be underground
Who knows,
really.
But I’m here,
And I don’t know what I’m gonna do with it.
But I’m gonna do something.
So do something with me,
Do something with me. Thought Catalog Logo Mark

Ari Eastman

✨ real(ly not) chill. poet. writer. mental health activist. mama shark. ✨

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