this was not how i expected 17 to be like:
not the collective hunching over desks,
dust from the wooden tables clouding our systems and
the constant scratchy sound of pen against paper.

what i was promised was:
an adventure.
cries of the youth not from desperation but from joy.
hand-holding and running towards the sun,
smiling so wide our faces hurt.
being happy.

and i feel scammed.
did i do something wrong, for things to end up like this?
did i somehow stray into the wrong path?
foray into a different journey in which only this hellhole of a place exists?
or did i misunderstand everything from the start, and make assumptions that life was going to be alright?

whatever it is, i’m not sure i want to know anymore—
the only good news nowadays is better off left alone.