Today, I was asked a very awkward question:
"Why did you chose to be a lion?"

For me, I couldn't answer right off the bat, and I most certainly couldn't express her history through a text. I also have this awesome thing where I can't just tell someone exactly how things happen about myself, so I figured poetry would be the good beat-around-the-bush yet straight-forward answer I needed to give.

And although I wrote it for my friend, I think it would be beneficial to share it here.

How Leoa Came To Be

In the midst of enigma, origin of teenage mind
Comes a shrouded whirlpool of emotion, derived
From a lack of affection, physical and mental
Attachment created subconscious images and
Person, sprouted from the action determined by
The way my chest would heave and how I would breathe
That it was indeed foreplay, but
The play turned to hate and the hate was targeted
To where the depression and remnants of love first began
While the emotion stayed the affection strayed
And even the foreplay was given a face and a name.

But before figure had a face and a name
A predecessor to it came to enter the fray
Of the mind and the whim that was acted upon
And turned whispers into shouts about
Solitude, sanctity in solidarity to the point where
You couldn't even recognize the fact that
The only ones that cared weren't even there, even
One that wasn't even existent at all
But his existence came to be and so did hers
Creation stemmed from what I should become.

One inhale, one exhale
And the physical embodiment of his opinions
Morphed with mine to create such a
Mind and body of that I don't have
But is tucked away, birthed by both the
Positivity and negativity of her father, a
Figure of the memories that I shared
With the one who only fed me despair
And from there she grew, into a beautiful creature
with physical attributes like those of a lion,
A lion once played with by the man whom I strayed
And from then on out, she has remained a
Piece of me, made from the pieces of him
That he bred to express my love for him
Now used to express my thoughts of independence
Promoting the predecessor's ideals of staying to myself.

And here I stand,
Neither who I am or should be nor am I
The lion of who I was encouraged and almost forced to
Become, pressured my the man in my mind
And by the memories of the man I left behind
So now I express her, the goal and existence of her
Through the talents that I have been blessed with
Either with the images I create or the words I speak
And morph her with my image of me
In a failed attempt to become what is something
That can only be separate from me
And in order for me to fulfill what has been created
I'd have to annihilate myself in order for her to be freed.

And that is how Leoa came to be.

---

Today, my mom said I could get a wheelchair, but that I would have to buy it off Craigslist, since, well, we are both cheap like that. Of course, it has to come out of my bank account, and I need that money for other things when I move out this April.

I feel so old, you know? Taking too many damn meds, looking for a wheelchair, applying for SSI (social security income), complaining bout how I know when a storms gonna hit cuz I can feel it in my bones. My sister says I am well on my way to becoming 85.

I'm sick and tired of feeling old. And I feel old for feeling so damn tired. Oh well. I found a wheelchair for 40 dollars, and I sent an email to the person selling it, I hope I get a reply :3