When you turn nineteen,
You will begin to do very strange things.
You will drink lots of coffee, which you don't
Necessarily enjoy but MUST drink.
You will begin drinking water out of odd-shaped apparatuses
In copious amounts,
Constantly making trips to the faucet
And the toilet.
You will drink lots of coffee and water in
Alternating gulps simultaneously.
For better complexion.
You will have overwhelming urges to buy cigarettes,
But you won't buy them.
Because you're of age and have your own debit card.
You're a nervous wreck.

When you turn nineteen,
You may begin feeling like a cloud of emptiness,
Like a black hole,
Void space.
Neither here, nor there.
You will change outfits three times a day
And comb your hair every time you pass a mirror.

When you are nineteen,
You will spend your days sulking for no reason
And watching the first halves of movies
Made in the nineties.
You will want things.

When you turn nineteen you will feel old
And young all at once,
It will give you a stomach ache,
But it's okay.

When you turn nineteen,
You will feel like you are slowly and delicately unraveling.
But you'll be too tired to ravel yourself again.
You will begin to do very strange things,
Very strange things indeed,
For no reason,
And for no merit.