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do you ever look at that freshman year photo of yourself,
(maybe hair fuzzed, maybe eyes wide, maybe teeth wider still,)
and think,
you think, “that’s not me.”
and you’re right.
it’s not old.
it’s not tired.
it hasn’t slept through first period yet - and survived.
(so you had to fight off two cats to do your homework, ended up being pretty rushed and of course you know teacher wants your best work…)
it hasn’t crashed a car into the garage yet.
(*******, you were going so slow! how did that even happen??)
it hasn’t had sweaty-palmed movies, a quick rub on the pants before going in for the hold.
(she smells so good!)
your mom makes you broccoli, extra mushy because that’s how you like it, and you get a little teary.
you think “i haven’t cried over broccoli since i was five.”
you wear the same coat that you did in seventh grade.
the arms are stained.
you can almost still see grass from hills long ago.
when you put it on, your stomach still rolls down those hills a little bit.
you feel the cold snaps inside its very lining,
an excited screech, a simple pleasure.
you still know how to do that special little breath before the big one when you step outside.
(means your lungs don’t turn into icicles. maybe you won’t need it where you’re going.)
i bought that coat about one foot two ago.
(i’ll still need it where i’m going.)
i confessed my first about three hundred sins ago.
(i’ll still need it where i’m going.)
you went from giving gum to people you’ve never thought about,
(trust me, it’s nothing!)
to trademark glares, meant to keep the thoughts out.
it feels like there’s a watermark over everything you write.
it feels like your sense of sight
is far off.
(maybe it’s in california,)
it got pulled out.
(maybe it’s in pennsylvania,)
it rooted again elsewhere.
(maybe it’s in boston. maybe it’s always been boston. your whole life, it was boston. you never even knew.)
glassy-eyed stare,
(over water.)
now that’s some trademark glare!
(over ice. over easy. over and out. so over it.)
maybe in sophomore year you called a teacher by their first name,
and ran away when you got that trademark glare.
now it’s “hey douglas, guess who didn’t do their homework uh-gain?”
it’s a joke that y’all share.
you know you won’t remember so much.
you won’t remember the shoe squeaks, every last-minute print job.
you won’t remember the chicken nuggets, how much gum bubbles ****** you off during MCAS,
but you remember a glow.
i remember a warmth, so much.
i remember every time that i grew a little more “i can do it and i don’t know what it will be,”
even if i don’t have the words.
will you remember too?
i wrote on my arm once,
“it all feels so dissolved.
eyes are tired.
eyes are hopeful.
the growing up gets closer each day,
and we are moving on.”
all of this isn’t knowing you can fly.
it’s knowing you know how to try.
hey babe. it's been a while.
how is chicago?
school is great.
i see my friends' smiles every day, so full of promise and love.
i date girls and they are beautiful and i make them anxious which makes me That *****.
i do homework and it is interesting and difficult.
i do therapy and it is interesting and difficult.
i drink and smoke and make bad decisions and live with them.
i love people openly and i love people quietly and i dislike people at a moderate volume.
i sing when no one is listening. i call vincent and rachel and sophia and i tell them about the view here and how the weather is so nice all of the time. i message kids back home and support them as they go through all that we went through. i watch movies with girls who look like you and talk like you and make love like you.
and in all of these things,
not once do i miss you.
Kuch gine chune se saal hai,

Jo hai yahi haal hai…

Thode rishtey hai jyaada waade hai,

Kuch pure hai kuch aadhe hai…

Chaar dost hai aneek iraade hai,

Jindagi haar jeet se aage hai…

Jo baate adhoori hai,

Adhoori hi sahi…

Dosto muskurate raho jindagi itni bhi buri nahi…
Erika Nov 4
I'm terrified of the where.
of the how
of the when
and of the why
I feel like all the breath in my lungs is only there for a moment
i cant wrap my brain around the idea of rejection
job rejection
life rejection
love rejection
i love rejection
or as some would think
i just feel like I have the worst luck in the world which is a horrible thing to imagine because i know, i promise i know that there are people out there who dont have a roof over there head or a support system
support systems are great
support systems are suffocating
push me around and tell me that i failed
tell me that i ****** up
tell me that im not actually the great intelligent person that you keep
making me out to be.
that is me
that is me
but maybe in another life
another century
another world
another being
any other day my mood would be high and i would be filled with
young hope
young feelings
young thoughts
young words that fill my brain with positivity and possibilities
possibilities that are endless
endless failures come with those possibilities
unfortunately i am stuck
I am stuck within myself
full potential is reached not by the support of others
but by the support that your soul gives unto you
unto you is your soul that screams for you to do better
be better
be smarter
no wait thats your brain
does the soul control the thoughts of the brain?
or is the brain the enemy in all this
the logistics are complicated but the soul shouldnt be
but when does the plant grow if there isnt sunlight
im not saying that im not loved
i am very loved by many
but is it enough
when your brain tells you it isnt
success is everything
money is everything
power is everything
but what do I know.
I'm just a kid sitting on a pillow
Sarah Nov 1
I don’t believe in the future. I’ve spent almost all my life knowing that I’ll never make it there. That one day I’ll finally get the courage to end the time line. I know that no one will miss me anyway. I see all these people who tolerate my existence. After a week they’ll forget I ever existed. I see me parents. Their tense marriage. I’m the reason that tension is there. I ruined their lives with my presence. They would take a month then realize how much money their saving and maybe even fall back in love. They’ll be fine. My old class mates would perhaps like and comment on a face book post about how tragic my inevitable fate was but, that would be all. I know that the world will keep turning without me yet I’ve never pictured the world turning with me still here. I still can’t see a future past this year. I’ve never considered it a possibility. I don’t know what I’m doing because I never thought I’d make it this far. I fear the future that I never planned for more than the oblivion I’ve been avoiding. Maybe tomorrow I’ll finally be courageous enough to end it. If not. Maybe the next day or a month from now because I don’t believe in the future or rather I don’t believe in my future.
km Oct 30
i started out with one
and that doubled
someone's son
has gotten me in trouble

unsure of where to go
unsure of what to say
unsure of what i know
unsure of which way

i know i like the one
maybe in love with two
the third is fun
but how do i choose
Haylin Oct 29
These words will not rhyme
These will be words true to the heart

Late at night I sit crying in the dark,
Wondering if this will last,
Wondering if you will still love me
after I hit my breaking point

I want this to last through high school
I want this to last through college
I want this to last through time

When you go off to college
and I stay here in high school
I hope you stay true and loyal to me
I just hope you never leave

But if you do,
Will be my breaking point

But I wonder and hope
that this will last forever

I'm just wondering
Jordan Oct 25
click clack click

keys are pressed
and the girl
who is pressing
them types away

are flooding her brain
can i do anymore?

papers litter
the desk
blue light flooding
the girl's face
one thing's for sure
she won't be able to sleep tonight

typing on her laptop computer
hair up
dark room
only light is coming from the computer

and she hates it

the clock reads
red led lighting up a small part of the room
hardly bright enough to read

click clack click

squinting her eyes
she leans forward
there's not much more she can do
a yawn escapes
her mouth but she keeps

because she knows that she has to finish
this tonight or wrath
will be unleashed on her
so she works
and works

stress on her mind
papers full of unfinished work
she knows she'll never finish it all
but she could at least try

another yawn escapes
and she scolds herself for feeling tired
but it isn't her fault
as her eyes grow heavy
and she falls asleep

dreaming of unfinished papers
I've never been in this type of experience before, but I've never written a poem about this before, so I thought it was worth a try.
It follows a young girl in college struggling to finish all of her work, battling with exhaustion.
I don't have time for this
I don't have time for anything
Please send help
I need help
Please send help
What is it like to be ok?
I have so much stuff to do and absolutely no time to do it. It's weighing me down and all I can do is waste more time trying to figure out what to do
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