it was watermelon air; but not real jennifer aniston will never know my name. watermelon, no; that fake, chewinggum just a fact, and i only mean it, nothing watermelon, bright and punchy, like hidden in the words (a movie of hers was an ammonia shot to your happy place… playing during my lunch break. i wasn’t i don’t remember the face. i don’t want to. paying attention; i was reading hamnet.)
remember when you were seven? you were at the store with your mom or your dad. you saw the gumball machine and youd beg your mom for a quarter, when she'd give it to you, you'd bolt to the machine and insert the quarter as fast as possible. you'd be disappointed when you get an orange gumball instead of a pink or blue one, but you'd still pop it in your mouth and chew.
it's different now.
it hasn't been a very long time but it's definently different. there's less going to the store with your parents because you dont want to miss your favourite show or because you want to play a video game. there's more yelling because you refuse to clean your room, or you dont want to get out of bed.
think about that again. spend some time with them, go out for ice cream, go for a bike ride, have a conversation with them. acknowledge everything they do for you. acknowledge that they're trying their hardest to give you a good life, a good future.
tell them you love them.
this was a short story i wrote in the seventh grade, i put it in poem form and i rewrote the ending. this is more of a letter to myself, idk