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Depressing Poems I Wrote as a Teen
I refused to part with my poem-filled journals when I was a teen. I was terrified of losing my carefully crafted creations, especially those that weren’t for the world’s eyes. I kept them in a backpack and took them everywhere, from my after-school job to parties with friends. I’m 37 now, and I still have a box of notebooks in my closet.
My father was in a local rock band, so I learned the value of artistic expression at a young age. We weren’t close, but I remember him getting frustrated when he forget the riffs for a guitar solo or couldn’t find a cassette tape with the recording he wanted. Some people thought he was crazy — and perhaps he was — but I understood the desire to hoard his creative achievements.
I’m not sure if he’s the reason I’m like this or if it’s just something creatives experience in general. Either way, I have no plans to change.
I began writing poetry when I was 11 or 12 years old, with the bulk of my work completed during my early teen years. As I grew older, my poems were replaced by how-to articles and SEO-rich marketing copy. I haven’t written a poem in years, but I haven’t forgotten how good it feels to let your thoughts unravel across the blank pages of a spiral-bound notebook.
