Full Circle

A bit of autobiographical prose I wrote in an English class I took (and failed) in Spring.




Full Circle


I remember being small. At one time, I was thin, long-limbed, and flexible. I was both frail and strong. My strength came from knowing how to maneuver around an opposing force. But if I couldn't avoid something, it would usually knock me down.


My family made light of my thinness, or perhaps it really concerned them. I remember my grandmother always trying to make me eat, and complaining that I was too picky about food. Really, I'm surprised all the hearty German home-cooking she provided didn't put any weight on me.


But I did wish to be sturdier, stronger, able to stand up to opposition and not get knocked down. My mother and grandmother are sturdy. It shouldn't surprise me that I've begun to look like them. But it's made me realize that ultimately their kind of sturdiness can be detrimental. Ailments caused by decades spent under the burden of their own strength have become more evident lately. And they've become evident in me. Eventually, I'll have come full circle. Frailty leads to strength leads to frailty. Over and over.


—Adrienne McKay 2010

Old Thoughts New

Try to imagine this with a steady, melancholic melody to it. It might help to listen to Black Star by Radiohead beforehand, as that's what I was listening to just before I wrote this. Without the tune, it'll probably just seem goofy/rhymy.




Old Thoughts New


I'm too afraid of death to keep on living
And I'm too afraid of life to tell the truth
I'm too afraid of lies to try forgiving
And I'm too afraid of age to keep my youth


Already I'm too old for this
And too young to feel like that
It's too bright in this abyss
And too dark to shine a light at


It hurts too much to see you
But I'm praying for the pain
And all these thoughts feel brand new
But they're only just the same


—Adrienne McKay 2010