The First Poem I Ever Wrote in English

I still remember the first poem I ever wrote in English. I was just 16 years old. It is funny when I think about it now because I did not even know how to spell the word “meteoroid” back then. I had to sneak my mom’s phone just to Google the spelling. I felt so rebellious doing that, just for a word. But that is how badly I wanted to put my feelings on paper.

The poem was called “Meteoroid” and I wrote it on a torn-out page from my homework notebook. I was so proud of it that I folded the page neatly and placed it in my notes folder to keep it safe. It felt like I had written something so precious, like it carried my hidden emotions. But after some time, I ripped that paper apart and threw it away. That was the moment I stopped writing for a while.

I do not remember the entire poem word for word, but I still remember how I used a meteoroid as a metaphor for myself. Let me try to rewrite it today, with the same feelings I had back then.

I feel like a meteoroid
Wandering around the space
Blazing with fire
Looking for a place to rest

Reading this again brings back that old feeling so clearly. I was so lost and honestly, I was depressed. I felt like I had no one. No friends to talk to, no one to look at me and really see the pain I was carrying. My daily routine was simple yet exhausting. I would go to school, then academy, then study at home. I would play for a little while with my brother, but once everyone fell asleep, I would lie there wide awake thinking about life.

It is funny how some things never really change. Even now, when I lay down at night, my mind starts wandering. But now, it feels a little different. Back then it was just sadness and confusion. Now, it is a mix of inspiration, clarity and yes, sometimes pain too. But I have learned to see the beauty in that. It is like life gives you all these emotions packed together, and you just sit with them for a while.

Let me try to write the next stanza, the one I probably would have written if I had kept going that day:

Filled with void
No warmth in crust
Without any direction
Moving with a burst

It is strange how I can still connect with that same emotion after so many years. That restless, floating feeling like you are out there in space, burning but still lost. But I think that is enough of visiting the past for today. It was nice to open that little window, peek into my old memories, and feel all of that again.

But I want to focus on the present now. That young version of me, the one who sneaked her mom’s phone to search for a spelling, who poured her confused heart onto paper, she deserves to be remembered. And I think she would be proud to know that I am still writing, still thinking about life, and still finding meaning in my words.

Sometimes, we do not need to carry every old piece with us forever. Sometimes, just remembering is enough.