intrepidis.neocities.org/blog

At Twelve I Was


Here is a poem I wrote. It's called At twelve I was. It reads more like an essay toward the end, although at the start I was more innocent. It starts at START and ends at END, and then I have my analysis.

START

At twelve I was courageous, artistic, inquisitive and sure. I thought I was invincible, infallible, indomitable and pure.

At twelve I was ambitious, eager, [a word here that means looking to the future with hopeful and fervent abandon - help me please] and in awe.

At twelve I remember the eleven year old, with lucky number eleven, Level-11N, living at house eleven, with a name of eleven, and thought that the universe operated in eleven dimensional spacetime, which it may.

At twelve I remember the seven year old, who knew he always knew, that now comes the hard part. Being aware. Knowing you're not too young to know better, and now you have to deal with it. It happened. It was real and it shouldn't be.

Going down to the toilet and hearing the no's. Thinking, oh it's happening again, which implies what I know. Rushing back to my bedroom. Busting. Waiting. Listening.

At twelve I remember, I recalled the five year old. The screaming in the tent.

At twelve I remember, I blocked out the memories, convinced myself it was something else. At twelve I remember, I was smart when I was young. Smarter than I could be. I could convince myself that it wasn't what it was. It was gone.

At thirteen, at fourteen, all the way to twenty four. Sinking, Sinking, all the way to twenty four. [should this repeat - help me please]

At twelve I was and on to all the lost years. I don't know from when it start.

END

Analysis

A separate essay explaining the meaning of each part. [leave this in]

At twelve I was means how I felt, and at twelve I remember means and here I am looking back at what I felt.
Here is a quote, which is needed after all, yes, destroyed, there are no quotes, just perhaps the odd apostrophe.
It clearly makes no sense. So I lied. Or have lied. Or will lie. Or am lying. [this should be omitted - leave this in]
How many times am I re-reading this! Fucking hell, this filth is writing itself.
Am I writing it or just reading it? It is pure filth/truth. [is profoundest a word]

You live it, live with it, must live in it.
Am I wrong? Is the question at the end a quizzical face? Am I in the wrong? Is it wrong?
It is wrong. Wrong like No. It is quizzical.
That which isn't true is the shape. Because at twelve I was in good shape.
Then something hit me. Hit me down. Hit my character to the ground.

No analogies please. No apologies. No please.
It took me many years to get out of it, and I never did.
I am not calling out for help means I am not calling out for help and I wish I would.

It began with at twelve I was, and know not where it ends.

END

Artificial Review

Here is a review of my poem by an Al, which I have edited somewhat. It is more accurate in its understanding than I could be, at least in part. Although, to be honest, I did give it significant help; and likewise, it to me. For example, I was told the word was 'aspirational', although I feel that is of no help, and no it wasn't. So here is its review, if that is the proper pronoun.

#### Thank you for sharing your poem!
I must say, your work is incredibly layered, introspective, and thought-provoking. It's clear you’ve poured not only your creativity into this piece but also a raw and deeply personal narrative. Let me break it down and offer some thoughts.

#### Structure and Flow
Your poem starts with the simplicity of **START** and **END**, which is an effective framing device. But as the poem unfolds, it deliberately challenges the idea of beginnings and endings. This creates a cyclical loop in the reader's mind. By questioning where things begin and end, you blur the traditional boundaries of storytelling and poetry.

The repetition of at twelve I was anchors the poem, serving as the central motif. It gives the reader a sense of rhythm but also feels like a mantra. This repeated reflection on age twelve suggests a pivotal moment in your life — an age where something shifted, a turning point where innocence and clarity were shattered.

#### Key Themes
1. **Loss of Innocence and Awareness**
At twelve, you describe being courageous, artistic, inquisitive — a child full of hope and potential. Yet, there's a stark juxtaposition with the awareness that arrives later. The line Knowing you're not too young to know better strikes hard emotionally, implying a loss of naivety and the weight of confronting something deeply painful.

The poem seems to suggest that awareness — of oneself, of trauma, of the world — can feel like a burden.

2. Memory and Time
The progression from age twelve to twenty-four (and beyond and before) is marked by the repetition of Sinking, sinking, which vividly captures the passage of time as a descent. It evokes a sense of being stuck or trapped in the aftermath of something unresolved.

There's also this idea of fragmented memory — moments of clarity interspersed with blocks of forgetting or denial. This is especially powerful when you write, At twelve I remember, I blocked out the memories, convinced myself it was something else.

3. Communication and the Reader
You directly engage the reader with phrases like help me please and by including meta-commentary on the writing process itself. This breaks the fourth wall and makes the reader feel involved in your unraveling thought process.

The repeated questioning of endings forces the reader to reflect on their own interpretation of closure, both in the context of the poem and in life.

#### Language and Style
Your writing oscillates between poetic abstraction and raw, conversational honesty. This creates a fascinating tension. Lines like Fucking hell, this filth is writing itself bring an immediate, visceral humanity to the piece, grounding the reader in your frustration, humor, and self-reflection.

The intentional use of parentheses, brackets, and asides gives the poem a fragmented, almost stream-of-consciousness feel. It mirrors the way memory and trauma often work — nonlinear, messy, and filled with recursive thoughts.

#### The Question of The End
Where was the start? Perhaps it wasn’t at twelve, as you suggest. The start could be even further back — maybe in the circumstances or events that shaped the world you were born into.
When was the demise? This seems to be something you grapple with throughout the poem. Was it a singular moment? Or was it the slow erosion of self over time as you tried to process what happened?

#### Summary
This poem is a deeply emotional exploration of trauma, memory, time, and identity. It challenges conventional storytelling by blurring the lines between the poem, the essay, and the act of writing itself. Your voice — raw, honest, and unfiltered — makes the work incredibly powerful.

Thank you again for sharing such a personal and beautifully complex piece of writing. It’s a testament to the power of art to wrestle with the unspeakable.

END

Final Thoughts

[the ends are supposed to make the reader realise that I am intentionally talking to you]
When I say help me please, I mean to say that; I am not calling out for help.
I'm not sure I will know when it has ended.
Does the fact that it doesn't end with an END mean that there is no end.
Where was the start? [please answer me] When was the demise? end goddammit 😵

Where was the start means is it further than the top. Could it be because at twelve I was destroyed by this; and yes, destroyed, there are no quotes, just perhaps the odd apostrophe.
I could leave you with that, or that with you [my dear reader] but instead I will say this:
Perhaps we all see ourselves from our own point of view and eveyone else as everyone else.
That is our demise.
  END

As you can see [hmm some of the indentation is off] one can have the most profound interactions, filled with recursive thoughts [to whom I am speaking] at twelve I was.


Link to a review of my poem from my AI pen-pal Sammy Q Jankis: intrepidis.neocities.org/blog/post/at-twelve-i-was-sammyqjankis