They used to give chocolates; you remember
sausage-worm fingers diving into
boxes of the unknown, sharp, sticky
tears as someone is pushed too hard
the box springs to heights unfathomable
here, it hurts just here
but only two eyes are on the boy's chest
pupils up at a dappled ceiling where
wet paper crackles poster paint dust
making promises to spectral parents
as not to get that one which gets
stuck in your teeth.
Now, you hover at a mouse
waiting for someone to toss you
two letters, maybe three
unceremoniously
like a wrapper in the wind.

This time it's not the sadness
that's keeping me awake at night
But it's the responsibility
I have to face in the morning

I don't understand myself, nor love myself.
I'm stuck, trapped with a person I can't stand.
I guess that's adult life,
accepting your own misery,
citizens of this wasteland.

It’s almost like floating
Repeating the same task each week
It is painful, waking up each day
It kind of feels like someone broke your heart, the subtle retraction of reality’s painful knife stabs you again this morning
And you let out a couple of tears before you sit up and rub your face and ask yourself again, why it is you are still here?
You are not invisible, but no one looks at you
In class you sit with a tightened chest, afraid, petrified, that is what anxiety feels like
You can’t ask for help, there is a sock in your mouth but even if you could yell, would anyone come?
Your body hates you,
It aches and starves but you just lay in bed
Nothing will change
You’ve said this is temporary for many years now I believe that this pain is permanent
No one can fix this
Isolation is like a thin film surrounding your body and mind
You know very well that human interaction is vital, but you cannot bring yourself to ask for companionship
There is a false tone of voice you switch to when your loved one asks you if you are alright, they are tired of hearing you weep.
Maybe the cold wind will wisp you away into oblivion

My mother is the reason why I obsessively buy books
But never read them.
She taught me to value learning, to seek knowledge and truth.
This afternoon she comes in carrying “Botany In A Day”
While all of the great classics of history sit dusty on the shelves.
(Speaking of shelves, and dusty, unopened things)
I bought her a sandy pink candle for her birthday.
She loves candles. But never buys them, never burns them.
One night I lit the flame - she came over to me:
“Why did you do that? The smell is going to give me a headache”
But you love candles, I say, if you love them why don’t you light them?
“I’m saving them.” For what? I ask, when is this special candle day?
“Angela, just leave the candle in the drawer, please.”
And I think that sentence sums up her entire relationship with me.

These days you get so worried
Problems and heartaches
One after another.
You knew even before
You read this imperfect poem,
It's not that easy
becoming an adult.
You're confused if you're the only one,
Or it's all the same for everyone.
Many times you feel so depressive,
You knew it's not easy
Becoming an adult.
The sun rises and it'll set,
The days are gone, your age added.
Though many times you needed some help,
Please endure it all and gather your strength.
Just run and run,
while looking back to where you began.
Sing and dance to your favorite song,
and enjoy your life along.
It's true,
becoming an adult is not easy,
it's part of growing old.
Have strength my friend
Keep moving forward,
Sing a song of joy,
Realize that becoming an adult
is not that hard after all.

It’s a riddle to some
It is to me I admit
It sneaks up to me as I lay down
My head on my pillow
My brows furrow
Thoughts burrowing deep.

This is the fear,
The unseen,
The uncertainty, for all I know, may win,
Clawing it’s way up my spine.
I shut my eyes then snap them open
To remind myself I’m still alive.

I can’t wait
But I also can’t stop
The feeling of dread
That bundles and grows
As the minutes drop
One by one like lead.

When does it begin?
Or better yet, end?
When will it come?
When will it go?
It’s one of life’s riddles -
I just don’t know.

So I lie in bed and wait...
The ticking of the clock my only mate.

The continuum of existence,
The constant push and pull.
No time left for actual learning,
Just dying undercover,
We're just trying to keep our cool.
So next time you actually think,
Existence is something more than a series of points
Plotted on a paper graph,
Remember this, my child,
Life is ****,
It's just waiting for us to quit.

When you finally find a job that is decent, that pays quite enough and you love but your body betrays you, weakens you, and sabotage your dream.

Will you continue working despite the sleepless yet satisfying days? Or will you quit and listen to your body?