Crying allows me to slow down and obsess over the weight of life's problems
like an anorexic preteen watching as the numbers tick on a scale
Sadness consumes my every thought

This is the place I’m supposed to call home
Then why do I feel so foreign here?
Like a first time tourist lost within a country where no one speaks English


Yet, at the same time
I see the same faces
the same places
The menu at the diner around the corner never changes
The streetlights come on at the same time each day without fail,
except for that one down the street that’s been out since before I can remember
Never changing, always stagnant
Like an iPod stuck repeating the same bubblegum,
boy band
pop song from 2004


And I feel my stomach turn
my face turns green
my temperature rises
I am sick
of this place
I am tired
of this place
I am sick and tired of whitewashed, backwards thinking of “I’ll take care of myself -
***** anybody else.”
Because this might be a town
but it is anything but a community


And one day
hopefully soon
I will escape the invisible bars that trace the outline of this town
that are continually getting smaller and smaller
as my dreams become bigger and bigger


I can no longer breathe

This is Seventeen.
Seventeen is loosely in the beginning of my life. Seventeen is realizing you’ve got a whole lot of life left in front of you. It is accepting that life is a page of writing that has been started, but is nowhere near finished, that a few doors have closed, but many more are still open, that some choices are irrevocable, but some may be changed yet, that there are still many what ifs that need to be figured out.
Seventeen is being caught in the limbo of being seen as an incompetent child and being forced to make adult decisions.
Seventeen is having the freedom to drive anywhere, but having a curfew to stay within.
Seventeen is losing many of the friends you used to have, but keeping the ones who are the closest to you, the ones who understand you the best, the ones you hope to have forever.
Seventeen is being able to stay up late, eating pizza in the park, and play on a playscape trying to be kids for just a little longer.
Seventeen is year long concert series and jamming out to your favorite bands covered in sweat.
Seventeen is dying your hair bright colors, much to your mother’s disparagement, and then changing it a week later.
Seventeen is being forced to choose what you want to do with the rest of your life when your favorite food changes on a daily basis and you have no idea how to function without your mom nagging you.
Seventeen is being excited, scared, sad, angry, hopeful, happy, jealous all at once and trying to deal with it, while still completing your homework on time.