Our entire lives are spent preparing.
Prepare for high school.
Prepare to go to college.
Prepare to qualify for a job.
Write your will and prepare to be expelled from earth forever.

And then you're done. That's it.

But why?

I want to go backpacking through a European country with the friends I keep?

At 6 am I want to get on a train and stay on with no destination, but only to speak to passengers.

I want to sleep on the beach and get chased off the next morning because it's illegal.

And how am I meant to find time for that?
I need money and employment and social status to do anything that isn't simplistic.

I need answers. And I need to live.

Take me away from Here.
Bring me to a soccer field at 11 pm
To look to the purple haze
and the holes that are poked through
revealing the starkness of the cosmos.

Take me away from Here.
Run away from the salesman in the mall
who follows us with perfume samples
and indulge in the poorly made Chinese food
that we always eat by the pint.

Take me away from Here.
Let’s go to the ocean
and ache over it’s vastness
while I embrace the burning of the ground and sky,
and squander my thoughts by plunging under the waves.

Take me away from Here.
To cities and museums
Where we can pretend we’re in a movie,
and breathe in the images
of the titans of stone before us.

Take me away from Here.
To a campfire in some classmate’s backyard,
Where the purple haze is above us again,
The cosmos poking through,
And I feel the presence of freedom

I did not cry at my grandmother's funeral.
I cried over a cartoon I watched last week.

The news of a car accident on the tv does not weigh down on my chest.
My heart aches over books.

I did not cry at my grandmother's funeral.
I teared up while talking to my friend about my homework.

I don't find humor in movies I've already seen before.
I laugh at poorly worded puns and clumsy mistakes.

I did not cry at my grandmother's funeral.
My heart was broken by the ending of a movie I bought on a whim.

I can't feel the emotion in lyrics or relate to them at all.
The sound of a cello can shorten my breath.

I did not cry at my grandmother's funeral.
When I had a bad audition I cried to my dad in the car.

My happiness does not lie in laughter or jokes,
But in dancing in my basement or in my kitchen when nobody's home.

I did not cry at my grandmother's funeral.
I was ruined by a song I heard for the first time at 3 am on a Tuesday.

I feel freedom not in staying out too late or defying my parents,
But rather looking at pictures of places I'll go someday.

I did not cry at my grandmother's funeral.

There is a constant urge settled in my chest to leave.
I get off on stupid five minute car rides to the nearest convenience store.
Holding a one way ticket in my hand on a worn train
sends a rush through my heart.
When I walk to the park and swing, back and forth until I loose count,

That is what I live for.

I hope to go on camping trips with people I can share existential crises with while we look at the sky we float in at night.
I want to go to foreign countries and try a bit of every food, even ones I probably won't like.
I'm anxious for the day that I can start driving and keep on going until my gas tank is low and I stop at a ****** diner and talk to a stranger and eat bad pancakes.

And yet here I am, participating in an ongoing robotic system,
Going to school for 7 hours a day,
Going to rehearsal,
Doing homework,
Coming home and eating dinner, hoping my brother doesn't have work that day.

But,
I still have a crying need to breathe, and live, and move.

And I hope that one day,

I will.