If you have anxiety
and you think your shaking voice is a weakness, marry somebody
who thinks it is the sweetest thing
they have ever heard. Marry somebody
who judges the quality of words

instead. Or if they get stuck in your head
like that one thing you said at a party 2 years ago

that you still regret.

I am struggling to get the words out
They are starting to feel empty, and forced

Poetry shouldn’t be like that.

Poetry should be as natural as breathing
As flowing as air currents

It should pour out with power, with purpose
Unrefined, but beautiful
Not in spite of it, but because of it.

And that is getting difficult to do.

here's the thing:

I.
i don't want to drive.
i hate it; i hate the idea of trying to reign in
this metal machine and forcing it to drag me from place to place,
choking out fumes and polluting life and being in charge
of my own destiny. i need to be able to hide behind "my mom can't
take me" as an escape clause, and you can't do that with a license.

II.
what's the point of living when there's more
seasons of teen wolf on the way, weeks worth of movies
i've never seen, millions of books that i may never
get to read, dozens of which currently reside on my own
bookshelf? if i could win the lottery tomorrow, college would be
for fun, and not for a career. i'd buy a movie theater and move it to my
new mansion, where i would hold free screenings because it's nice.
i'd watch every single thing on netflix and have a pantry designated
solely for nutella. what's the point of growing up when everything i want
is right here?

III.
in theory, new york city is the place i want to go. but i want to live
in the rich end, where the buildings and people are. the idea
of a ratty apartment -- literally -- is more than i can bear.
once, my dad killed a mouse and i cringed away from its lifeless body
inside a ziploc bag. how could i coexist with rats? leave out plates of my food
in hopes that they might not try and steal what i already had? why would i go
live in the city of dreams anyway, when my only one is to forget
about you?

IV.
look, high school is ****** enough. having to go to college in just two years?
why even bother? yes, please let me start over somewhere else
where i'll be completely out of depth and clueless all over again,
not to mention desperately lonely. sounds gloriously enchanted.
and yes, please let me waste THOUSANDS of dollars
on education for (at least) four years
despite the fact that i'm not good enough at anything i enjoy, nor
do i enjoy anything that would keep me rich and set for life. besides,
what's the point if you aren't there?

V.
is the wizarding world of harry potter hiring? can i just work there?
no? i don't know how to get a job. i don't know where to get a job.
i don't even want a job, just the paycheck, but you have to work to get paid.
i'd really like to sit around with unlimited money supplies
and go to all the concerts i want with a limo to
drive me around the world and private jets to shoot me
from country to country. unfortunately, or fortunately, i wasn't born rich.
i might have fared well with a removable silver spoon in my mouth,
but i wouldn't have become who i am now.

VI.
seriously, i know i'm young, but this prince charming and true love stuff
is nothing but lies, right? you can keep trying to fool me and trick me
into thinking otherwise, but it's unrealistic. i mean, there isn't a soul
alive who would willingly sit and watch tangled with me
or write me a love-anything. c'mon.
i'm a teenager, not the impressionable youth
you take me to be.

VII.
what the hell am i even doing here? do all teenagers feel like this?
i don't have a single talent to offer this world, or any person,
and i'm so self destructive that it's no wonder
i haven't accidentally caused the end
of everything around me. my room is a mess;
i can't be bothered to do my hair or hang up my clothes,
and i barely take care of myself.
and you want me to become an adult?
to grow up and make something of this
****** up world? i can barely keep my shoes tied.
i can't even drive yet. and i spend my days crying
over boybands and people i don't even know.

here's the thing:

VIII.
i'm selfish. i'm smart but incredibly naive. and
i know i'm disillusioned right now. i also know that it'll (hopefully)
end up alright in the end, and i'll smile at my younger self writing these
poems because younger me "didn't have a clue."
but right now, it feels like endless learning for a whole bunch of nothing.
but there is a part of me that's infinitely hopeful, or maybe infinitely
moronic. i don't know yet.
so here's looking to this generation, one full of ****** up kids
with ****** up ancestors. let's try and make the future better
and make the most of now, because it will never
come back.