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Gidgette Apr 2017
Some dead things just won't lay down
We keep walking
Long after we've died
Wreaking havoc upon the living
Drowning
what little of ourselves that remains alive in
Vintage
Tears and shame
Throwing up on sidewalks
Homewrecking
Bringing the occasional young stranger home
To get that little drip of pleasure
From his heartbreak at dawn
But apparently
This kind of "self help"
Isn't working
Apparently
Tomatoe juice with celery sticks
Massages
And people behind desks in
Ugly polyester suits with framed papers on their walls and a prescription or two
Is now
Rehab for the dead
Natalie Jan 2016
We all have built up our ideas of what our futures have in store for us. We all assume our dreams are attainable, that we will be the lucky ones who become successful and rich and famous.

When we fall short of our dreams, we have excuses. When something goes awry and we mister across misfortune, we come quick to our own defense; we quickly explain why we aren’t like the stereotype we appear to be emulating.

If we’re all creating our own justification, how are there any stereotypes to begin with? “Yes, I cheated but I’m not your ‘typical’ homewrecking ****!”—What girl is saying that? She’s pleading, explaining why she didn’t mean it like that, why it was a mistake and it just kind of happened.

Is everyone the stereotype?

Is no one the stereotype?

These expectations of ourselves move beyond our high school pursuits and passions. When we reach our adult careers, are we going to blame small things—like underperforming and underachieving on being tired? Or having an ‘off day’? What happens when that becomes a habit—everyday becomes that off day.

When will we accept that it could simply be our personality flaws?
You aren’t having a lazy day; you are a lazy person. I’m not acting ******, I’m just a *****.

But what are you supposed to do when your personality rubs even someone the wrong way? At some point, isn’t someone supposed to be your friend? Isn’t that just how it works?

Statistically, shouldn’t I have friends by now? But there’s no equation for personal relationships.

n.d.

— The End —