varsity jackets,
badges of glory,
guarantees
left by old, old money.
state champions'
tendency
to wander
pass female dorms,
late at night,
reasons of, not far
beyond her.
homecoming queens,
smiles permanent,
eyes glassed,
twisted sovereigns.

i always hated its color
but you gave it to me
so i kept wearing it

i always hated the way it fit
but i liked the way it felt
so i kept wearing it

it had that stupid little hole in it
right in the front
but i kept wearing it

i hated that shirt
yet i wore it every day
because you gave it to me

until one day i stopped
and i realized just how
ugly this shirt was

and then i realized
you are the shirt
in every way imaginable

i hated the way you were
like i hated the color of your shirt
but nor you or the color will change

i hated the way you fit me
like i hated the way it fit me
but i convinced myself i looked good in that shirt, and with you

and the hole, well, it just showed your imperfections
you had a huge hole in you
i was just ambitious enough to think i could sew it

the year of anxiety and emotional breakdowns
we asked our doctors for xanax

crying ourselves to sleep
waking up at ungodly hours

using study tips we found on the internet:
quizlet, kahoots,

khan academy

replacing lunch hours with study halls
desperate to get our projects done

on time

wondering why I haven’t had my period
in months

why I can’t ever seem
to relax

or how many more productive ways
I could have spent my time today

besides calculating the lowest score I could get
but still pass the class

watching movies on netflix
like the gospel,

hunched over in bed, clad in pajamas and tear stains,
crying over my math test marked with a B

because I only feel smart
when I get a perfect grade.

if you don’t get an A,
you are failing.

by the time I was sixteen, I had already experienced
being average, meeting expectations and failing

as a child, gifted was the first word
my teachers used to describe me

which didn’t haunt me
until I found out it was supposed to

when I passed pre-calculus, my dad was so proud
he started carrying my report cards

above the visor in his car

so relieved he could stop worrying
would I get into a good college?

he saw a program on the news
about the epidemic with depression

says he is just so glad to finally see me
taking care of myself

if you develop depression
when you are already broken to begin with

you go to the hospital

if you develop depression
when you are not already broken to begin with

you get told to “**** it up”

so when my grades started dropping,
everyone was disappointed in me

for being lazy

teachers who never spoke to me before
stopped me in the hall to ask if I’m okay

I say, I am sick
they say, No, you are

just incompetent

how could I not
hate myself?

with becoming the kind of mistake
people are supposed to learn from?

why would I ever want to
stop studying

when my intelligence was the most
interesting thing about me?

so, how lucky it is now,
to be boring

the way not going to guidance
is boring

the way looking at a 86%
and only seeing a B, not a failure

or fourteen points marked off
is boring

my story may not be as impressive as it used
to be, but at least there is nothing left

to count

the calculator in my head
finally stopped

I used to love the feeling of passing a hard test,
being the only one in the class to do so

not obsessed with being perfect
but afraid of being flawed

I used to take pride in being
top of the class

now, I am proud to have stopped
seeking revenge on this body

this was the year of accepting my grades
when they weren’t immaculate

without punishing myself

and I know it sounds ridiculous
but that is so hard

when I was little,
someone asked me

what I wanted to be
when I grew up

and I said,

smart

Everyone says it gets better after middle school but
High school isn’t much better
In that stage of their lives
Everyone cares way too much about other people
What they’re wearing
What really happened on that school trip
Where she’s sitting at prom
Why they haven’t broken up yet

And college isn’t really better it’s different
We’re less concentrated
Physically and mentally
We’re filled on the inside so there’s no room
For other people’s lives
The difference in college is that we care less
And more
About different things

I don’t know if that makes us better or worse.

magnified
the power of love is magnified by those who receive it
yet some souls that I've talked to have been deprived of this love
each breath they take involves a wheeze
they cry and ponder life and wonder
if there is more than this empty feeling
the feeling of sinking and going under
holding their breath hoping for relief
wishing for the privilege that other people have
the privilege to exhale
without feeling every emotion spring up
without shaking and crying on the floor
without wishing for a way out
in life there are two kinds of people
those who can't exhale
and those who can

feeling closed off
from the place
i once called home

looking for a new
place were I can
roam.

They say the silence is awkward
when it consumes an entire room.
But the thoughts are almost palpable.
I'm surprised no one has noticed sooner.
Thoughts of inequity.
Fear of rejection.
A concious sedation of self loathing and envy.
Faces running on auto pilot
in the few moments before everyone reaches for their phone
to drown out the quiet.
You can hear the girls comparing thighs
and hair
and dresses
because although we know the media is a generous artist
of flaws for the human form
we still worry that they are right about us.
Guys watching every twitch of lips
and fingertips
half of the room wants to scream
while the other half wants to run
but everyone is confused as to why.
Awkward silence is preferable, though,
to deadened conversation.
The ones where we mention the economy
or the war
or the friend that died last week
and no one knows if it was really an accidental suicide.
Where we paint a picture of bleak servitude
and lament our meager lots
So we stay quiet
except for the dinging of phones
until its time to go home
so that we can study for school
and get a degree that we think we have to have.
If only someone would question
just how much pieces of paper
dictate our lives
Money
Degrees
Concert tickets.
But no.
We all just linger
in the Awkward Silence.