My teenage brain as an ugly Christmas sweater

Does it make any sort of sense to fend off memories that haven't become memories yet?

I'm not too sure that I even want to continue the flow of progress that is growth.

Growth involves abandoning nearly everything that I once knew, 

and I'm not all that sure that I'm mentally prepared for that. 

I might not even supposed to be ready for something like that,

but my urge to be prepared for everything and anything

that could be thrown at me seems to be going a bit lackluster. 

I'm not prepared to leave the hallowed halls of the immature and awkward,

as I'm not ready for my  body to outgrow them just yet. 

I may not need the the training wheels on my bike anymore,

but I'm not so certain that the pillow I've hugged in my sleep since I was ten

is quite ready to meet the thrift store. 

Growing up is giving a massive chunk of yourself that you've known all your life

to the thrift store.

I wonder how many people would look at my memories and my childish mind,

pick it up with their thumb and index finger only,

give it a disgusted look because of all of the stains, 

and drop it like the ugly Christmas sweater they never wanted.

I'm not really prepared to become someone's ugly sweater yet. 

I still want to be worn to all of the family gatherings,

but never meet the boyfriend. 

I don't want to be put on a hanger in some foreign dorm room closet,

I want to be almost gingerly folded because my owner hasn't gotten the hang of it yet,

and gently tossed in a drawer. 

Knowing me and my reputation,

I'll be at the bottom of the drawer for a long time. 

But when my owner needs me, 

the part of her life that I represent will still be there,

waiting for her to step back into,

with the smell of her mother's perfume lingering slightly in the collar

because being honest,

you guys shared me way too often.

But she stepped into my sleeves as well. 

I'm sure she wasn't remotely aware of the youth that I hold in my unwinding seams,

but she gave me the part of you that you can't give yourself.

You don't wash me much,

you don't wear me much anymore. 

I suppose that the one birthday cake I've seen, 

and the icing left on the right cuff left too much of an imprint on you than it did me.

And though I said earlier that I had never exactly met the boyfriend,

I met the tears that he left behind in your eyes.

The best part of me back then was my ability to absorb.

And absorb I did.

I took in all of the tears,

and all of the nice summer days that were too peachy to forget. 

I remember the birthdays from when you opened the drawer

and chose a sweater that wasn't me. 

I still have the ability to encompass you and hang over your finger tips and knee caps.

But somehow you outgrew me without the intention to. 

I'm not even sure you know why you tote me around through all of your trips. 

I don't know why I still mean the world to you to be honest.

Don't get me wrong I love you too,

but you moved beyond me already. 

You grew. 

Still five feet and four inches tall,

and a reasonable weight,

you surpassed me.

Not the memories exactly,

those will haunt your mind for as long as you need them to plague you.

But I hope that while you can still wear me,

that I ease your heart a little more. 

Human Dignity + Compassion = Peace.