Every word we know has a definition. It only feels right for people to have one too, right?

The following poem is a personal attempt in finding mine. In short, I am a spongey paradox.

Did you ever notice how kitchen sponges have a rough side and a softer side for different purposes?

You may use the rougher side to get hard grease off a pan but you use the softer side for less vigorous cleaning jobs, like a child's cleared plate who really want dessert.

I am Sami. I am a friend and a sister and a writer. I am an athlete. I like running and I like records and taking pictures and newspapers and listening to music older than me and turtles... And above all, creating.

I don't like math or dresses or messes like my food touching and a lot of other things.

I'm also a paradox. Like the sponge, I can be rough and protective but also soft and delicate... It depends.

I am here, breathing, speaking, I have a pulse I am alive, but sometimes, I am not living.

I want to get things done I want to be successful but when everything is happening at once I am a tourist in a new city I once called my own head

When you're 5'9 it's hard to reach an expectation that is that is 10'2 way above your head. And I want to reach it more than anything but at the same time sometimes I can't even reach my feet out of bed onto the floor.

I may be a work in progress but I'm not getting any taller.

I am a calm hurricane.

I am silent and soft but inside I am a mix of emotion and thoughts I cant explain or hide from.

I am eager but I am worried. I am worried one day I might wake up with a terrible illness or maybe I will get hit by a car or witness a zombie apocalypse or something horrific will happen to everyone I love... But I am eager.

I am excited for the future... I can't wait for it to come.

I hate change but I can't stay put here. I need to fly free but I'm scared my wings will fail.

I ache for structure-- a Harvard outline of my existence. A predetermined itinerary of my life but I hate restriction and I hate being told what to do and what to be, when to be it and how.

How can someone be afraid of the future, while also begging for the current time to pass?

Sometimes, I stay up until 2 a.m. telling my brother after waking from a nightmare that it is going to be okay but, in reality, once his tears stop and he finally sleeps it's almost 4 a.m. and I can't even listen to myself.

It's easy to give advice. It is harder to take it.

I am not alone but I feel lonely.

I hate noise but I can't stand silence.

I despise being touched and I need my space but sometimes all I need is a hug.

I'm energetically exhausted. I can't wait to sleep but I'm restless when the time comes.

I am a record spinning a perpetual song. Perpetual song, perpetual song.

I am scared of dying but I am also scared to live... And sometimes I feel limited in a limitless world.

My thoughts are a rocking chair. They give me something to do but they don't bring me very far.

I'm feeling everything but nothing at once.