Teryn OBrien

Teryn OBrien Poems

Teryn OBrien Biography

Teryn O'Brien began writing poems after her first deep heartbreak at 18 years old. She has chronicled this strange adventure we call life ever since through her poems - which often delve into the beauty of life and creation, the pain of grief, and the redemption of healing. Teryn is a full time writer, photographer, creative, and poet whose calling is to help others find hope no matter what has gone on in life. www.terynobrien.com www.thewhimsicalpoet.tumblr.com)

The Best Poem Of Teryn OBrien

I Will Be Me

Growing up, I used to have this image.
An image society placed in my mind,
which grew to consume my entire perception
of what a woman should be.

She was taller,
and She had bigger curves.
She had long, glossy brown-black hair
and big, blue eyes.
And She could flirt.
She did whatever She wanted with whomever She wished,
and She didn't give a damn.

All the boys liked her.

And She was loud-extremely extroverted.
She walked into a room, and She laughed and smiled,
and She was funny.

And She wasn't smart-oh no! -
She didn't think about things too much.
She was always silly and fun and carefree.

And She never had any problems.
And She never shed any tears.
And everyone loved her.

And I loved her,
She, this image of who I thought I should be.
I loved her.
I envied her.
Because in every way She was the opposite of me.

I, who was often quiet,
and not-very-popular,
I, who froze up in a room of strangers.
I, who wasn't funny at all.
I was awkward and tongue-tied.
And I wasn't extroverted.
I could spend hours alone writing or drawing or reading,
and a crowd of people often felt like hell.

And I was smart,
but I tried not to think too much about things,
But I couldn't help it.
Thoughts just came like little trains
entering and exiting
an exploration of ideas all the time.

I had no idea what to do with boys.
They just left painful marks across my heart
and I wished I didn't care so much.

And I was broken.
And I cried sometimes.
I was hurting
because I was not She.
She, the image of who I thought I should be.
Because no one loves someone like me.

Years passed, and I began to grow up.
So many people told me who I should be.
So many people told me I should be She.
And they laughed, and they scorned,
And I tried so hard to be what they wanted of me.

I didn't fit into the mold and so they tried to shove me in,
They wanted me to play a part,
So I acted and I acted and
I lost myself,
Time and time again.

It was like drowning-
only whenever I thought I was really going under,
I came back to the surface.

Lots of things happened.
One wave after another.
Heartbreak and heartbreak
and depression and loneliness
and heartbreak and brokenness
and pain
and
Death.

But through all the hardness, I began to live.
And through all the darkness, I began to see.
I cried and cried,
I felt like I was dying,
But in the tears, I finally found Me.

And so I grew up.
And one day not so long ago,
I looked at myself in the mirror,
and I thought:
I do not have to be She,
The image society tells me to be.
The unattainable wish and incomparable dream
of a woman who does not exist.

I will be a real woman.
A living, breathing human being.

I, who am slender and small.
I, who've always liked short hair better than long.
I, who can be loud or funny.
I, who am smart and stubborn and strong.

I will often be quiet and think,
and I will see things that others don't see.
I will look at people and love them,
even when they so quickly forget me.

I will write and I will create,
I will run through the mountains,
And sing in the valleys.

Sometimes, I will cry.
And I will always be broken.
But I will be real.
I will live.

I will be strange and wild, winsome and free.
I won't let others tell me who I should be.
And I won't let that image of She haunt me.

I will be strong.
I will be courageous.
I will be Me.
Me, who is so much more than She.

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