how am i meant
to know what my life
is going to look like
after highschool?

will i be in university?
studying what?
what job will i have?
where am i living?
what friends do i have?
did everyone leave?

how am i meant
to know
who i am
entirely
at 15
if most people
dont even know themselves
at 35?

blue lights
hot teas

cold feet
soft sleeves

quiet room
typing keys

Normal people kissing:
Sensual
Butterflies in your stomach
You're the only two people in the world

People with glasses kissing:
Clink
Clank
Ok let's take them off
Wait, where'd you go?
You feel cold
Oh, that's a lamp.

dear september,
tell me, “you’ll be fine”
tell me, “you won’t bleed”
tell me, “your eyes won’t rain”
tell me, “your wounds will heal”
tell me, “you won’t be sad”
tell me, “this month won’t be same”
tell me, “it’s the happiest you’ll be”
tell me, “someone will love you”
tell me, “words won’t be shot at me”
tell me, “memories won’t haunt you”
tell me, “this time will be different”
tell me, “you will make memories”
tell me, “you won’t be deserted”
tell me, “ you won’t be depressed”
tell me, “you’ll be at peace and free”

I am a stranger to you.
I may greetingly nod as we pass;
Or hold a door open as the line lengthens.
Big deal.
But I just want you to know,
You are real, an individual whom I know is worried.
Worried for the children.
Worried for our safety.
Worried for our shared state of affairs.
I know worry doesn't add one minute to our lives,
But not worrying can remove lives.
At the end of it all,
Are you okay?
I sincerely mean it,
Cause I know I'm not okay with all this **** drama,
Being played out... DAILY... HOURLY.
Burrowing into our heads like hungry worms.

If you have wealth and money,

keep it to yourself.

If you have empathy and love,

share them with the world.

Billions of stars in the sky

only one close enough

is all it takes

to light up the earth.

Billions of people in the world,

only one special enough

is all it takes

to light up a heart.

writing these are dumb.

stupid even.

no one my age writes!
i feel so out of place.
alone,
drowning in my feelings almost.

i cant breathe.
being the odd one out
is already enough.
not this dumb nerdy trait too.

"she writes whenever she feels"

"uh oh! be careful she might write about you"

so what?
i can't exist now?

fine.

ill stop.
on the account of my anxiety
getting worse --
my attendance too.
my friends leave me slowly.

i grow distant from the world
when i get anxious
and my writing helps me with that.

yeah, let's stop writing
and let that happen.