I am a teenage introvert:

My bed is unkempt and I long for forgiveness - mainly from myself and possibly my mirror

I worship the cynical and complain how much I hate school - even though I hate when I stay home

My fingers are etching maps in my head, while I form an excuse to skip, even though I never do

I look for acceptance, anywhere. No one uses words anymore and the rooms are silent.

Miscommunication starts fights so I never speak up. Late nights on Netflix - succeeding at nothing

I am a teenage stereotype:

I save for concerts and buy cd’s. I long to drive someday and having the prospects of college. Filled with wanderlust I cry myself to sleep. Dreaming of not waking up - but getting home sick at home.

I am confused.