I am from a lab, the product of a test tube,

One half a set of twins,

Transplanted into the body of a single mother through a process called in vitro fertilization.

The gift of two, to a widowed grandmother who only wanted one.

I am from the shield of a knight,

Death threats and punches thrown at me like knives bouncing off the surface of the shield.

It only takes one missed deflection for the knife to penetrate the skin and mind to leave chronic injuries.

I am from an orange pill bottle,

The ones where you struggle to twist the lid off.

The chemicals in my brain found their own path,

One that trudges through the wood rather than following the perfectly pathed road.

To the sound of a snap I could be emancipated from the touch of reality.

The doctor prescribed me more bottles,

But I found bottles of my own.

I am from the stiffness of a hospital bed, the smell of lysol and chemicals,

My scars dug so deep they reached the sirens of an ambulance and its red lights.

I spent eight months in a place that reeked of Dialectic Behavioral Therapy.

But even DBT couldn’t metastasize a cure to Borderline Personality Disorder.

I am from a peruvian lily bathed in formaldehyde.

Her sixteen year old face that will never age, lay still as my heart does the same.

Our favorite songs now sing to a stranger.

The funeral home stays silent, but I can hear the screams from within,

But maybe they are my own.

I am from the backseat of the minivan I call my own,

I can only tolerate the car in motion,

With stillness comes consent,

The consent he decided to ignore and in the audacity of it being my own car.

I can’t look at the backseat anymore,

It sounds like a fresh diagnosis of PTSD.

I am from the clouds,

Cigarettes and thunder don’t mix well so the lightning strikes me down.

The downs crave the ups and the ups crave more than a cigarette. 

Five clicks, two clicks

The clicks don’t scare me anymore,

And the shakes aren’t out of fear.

I am from the box of crunchy dog treats,

Behind the chirp of a squeaky toy holds twelve pounds of energy and compassion.

Cadence is like the supports of a building,

She never lets me hit the ground.

I am from space.

Despite seventeen years of breathing without oxygen, I finally found my helmet.

Seems like stars come to fade, but the memory remains.

If one world doesn’t seem to be the right fit, worlds of galaxies still call out my name.

There’s a place for me somewhere, it will simply require more oxygen to find.

I learned it all from

The place that I am from.