It is impossible to fold a standard sized piece of paper in half more than seven times. 

You tested this theory in 4th grade

After coming back from recess

Seeing the A4 stack of paper on each desk

The teacher told us that if we could fold the paper in half

More than 7 times, she wouldn't assign homework. 

The first four folds were effortless

Though after the fifth fold, like any child, 

The confidence boosted and you thought you had it

In the bag. 

As the material thickened and our young, scrawny fingers

Struggling to manipulate it. 

Hands that had not existed a decade prior

Frustrated in their inability to conquer

Science. 

Minutes increasing, compressing resulted into angry sighs in 32 clumps 

Of wrinkled fist sized parchment. 

Everytime we did not succeed  

We would unfold our paper and 

Try again and again

Increasing only our anger and decreasing our 

Confidence. 

This memory resurfaced as I was sitting 

on my satin bed sheets that felt like a slippery slide with

A pillow wedge between my arms and my chest,

I was feeling my body folding up. 

In half then half and half again, until I was the smallest I had ever been. 

Bent just until I was my most stubborn and static self. 

It was only till this moment that I realized that my emotions are only so large. 

Like all of this, all of me could fit into a poem of a 9 year old. 

I remember being here before. 

At the bottom of this cycle, at the end of this exhale. 

I remember the overwhelming defeat at my desk. 

Clutching the idea of an impossible expectation and 

I Wish I could do more of it. 

I remember restarting. 

Retracting my steps and going back to square 1. 

So far, my teenage years have been like this experience. 

I collapse into something dense and heavy but then 

Unravel and open up again. 

I've spent my entire life recovering from these condensed episodes of emotions 

in something so simple as 

3.

2.

1.