nothingness used to be my greatest fear
the fear of death
not an imaginable vacuum of darkness
but something without existence
something i cannot write about
but now i realize that the nothingness
is already here
i am nothing
humans have fabricated it all
and i am just a sequel
an invisible thread
pretending to have a purpose
i am alone

i have reached the point of sadness
it has become part of me
and it is so deeply woven
and i am so drenched
it has seeped into crevices of me no one has ever seen
i have reached the point of sadness
i have been silent long enough
alone in my body
that it is feeble to turn it into words
and feed them to someone else
it has transcended words
it is me and always has been
i have always been a fearful sadness
at this moment i have run out of covers
that is why i am alone
underground
in my car
writing this poem with red eyes
but no tears

everyone is drunk and laughing
obnoxious in the best of ways
the last time we will all be together
"this is freshman year" buzzes in my ears
on a whim i fumbled for his hand
he looked at me with crystal blues
they were surprised but hopeful
i pulled him away from the multitude of conversations
the sun sprinkling fairy dust through the trees
summer is on the horizon, i know nothing can really happen
but i just want to be here with him for this moment
we tucked ourselves behind some trees
on a soft bed of grass
secluded
we could've been alone in a forest
sat there in calm silence
until he whispered timidly
"i wish i could've gotten to know you better"
i replied softly "i know, me too"

i would never admit this out loud
but he kind of makes me sad
the way i might feel bad for an ugly animal
how lowly a life you must've had
to wear that dreadful hat
"Make America Great Again"
short, silly little man!
why are you the way that you are
your face seems soft like a baby
but you ****** with my best friend's heart!
and she may forgive you
but i definitely won't

i usually make jokes at myself
because to some people
celibacy is funny
and what better way to cover up insecurity
yes i could have *** i guess
but i'm stuck in a comfortable place
where i've put it just out of reach
and i haven't allowed my muscles to stretch
yes i could have *** i guess
girls and boys alike have expressed interest
but whenever i get close
i plan a carefully elusive escape
a "coincidental" blockade
i may have put it there myself
but forgive me for being picky
not everyone has the skill of hurling themselves
please, don't call me a tease
i just have to sniff around before i know what i want
and usually, i've discovered
i don't

now i don't even try
and say hi
if theres a person i don't know in the room
such a drastic difference
from how i was a few months ago
i hate this
i have so much anger
but i feel so dry and i don't have the energy to express it
i think my eyes are just welling from tiredness
**** this **** hole that i used to love so much
my room feels like a pig pen
and my sheets don't feel clean even when i wash them
people irritate me beyond words sometimes
but mostly im so mad at myself
for being so content with laziness, cowardice
everything moves so slowly
and i get dragged along each day
im scraped up like my knees
**** i need a band aid

i feel like i'm going in/sane?
i'm such a hypocrite
calling myself a feminist
but i shame my body every time i look in the mirror
and i let the boys hold the sculptor's tools
and i try to make them like me more by wearing makeup and pushing up my *******
and i talk behind other girls' backs
and sometimes i still have to bite my tongue when they talk about sleeping around
and i looked her up and down before she spoke a word
and the difference between a good and bad day can be all about my face
and i don't even use the privileges i have to help the oppressed be heard
but i want this all to stop
and that is why i am a feminist
because i get moments of clarity and awe
they are getting closer together and longer
i see the way us girls are never given a chance
it is a lot to ask of us to know any better
and it horrifies me that
the definition of torture can match up
with some of the manners in which we are brought up

look past all of the cliches
shake off your automatic response to go "ugh"
and realize the implications of being told you're an object
in society's state of mind
over half of the population shouldn't have a voice
and that doesn't even take into account the intersections
enough layers to drown in oppression
and compared to most i'm on top of the bottom