I devoured Plath like fresh fruit
once in my life, when I felt the weight of unchanged air
on my shoulders, when everything was slightly
removed from me by the glass of the bell jar.
I saw no light in any day, nor any reason to be happy.

Things have changed so drastically.
I have so many things to be grateful for,
like kisses and cocktails and beer and
the strum of a freshly tuned instrument,
each note one fifth apart. The roar of a stadium
at the finish of the national anthem, my friend
Harry's hugs and maths homework when
I finally get it right. The fact that you can't actually
touch anything, just come so close to it
that electrons repel each other... Isn't that
amazing? Isn't love amazing? Isn't each
breath, each minute, each time we feel
conscious amazing? Aren't we all just bags
of blood, stranded on a rock in the middle
of space and isn't that a reason to go get good
grades and take drugs and smell roses? Amazing.
You have nothing
to lose and nothing to gain, just a definite end

and then...

Nothingness.