You're turning eighteen.

I know you think it's a big deal, and well, yes, you should celebrate it. But for the most part, things are still the same and change is yet to come. You will wake up still with acne scars. You will wake up still with painful memories carved into your thighs. You will remember that once it wasn't like this and you will have the vague sense that even what you have now will soon no longer be.

Rejoice in the fleeting nature of this moment, with its infinitesimal relevance and infinite beauty. You live here in this ever-changing space; nothing stays the same and you let yourself be carried from day to day. You drift. You watch the landscape of your heart slowly change. Sometimes the sun is creeping over the horizon and the sky is painted in your favorite colors. Sometimes you watch the sky shed tears and apologize for its mistakes. Sometimes you feel filled up with it.

You're turning eighteen. You're scared. And no, you will not wake up entirely different. You will have to keep being alive without knowing what it means. You will still have to be alone. This is your body. This is your soul. This is your brain; these are the demons you've created, monsters you've fed. This is your heart; these are the cracks, these are the bruises which are still tender, still blue.

If you listen closely, it is still in pain, fighting to beat each second. It remembers how you kicked and screamed and threatened to hit it, beat it to a ****** pulp, if it refused to give up on its own, to just stop, to pack its bags and leave behind a sunken, shriveled mess. You remember you were wearing tennis shoes and holding a baseball bat.

Sometimes, inside you, there are thunderstorms no one can tell are brewing. It's just the weather. Tell yourself that. It's something you will have to put up with and make adjustments for every day of your life. So pack an umbrella, buy pink rain boots and a matching polka dot rain coat, if you want. Bandage your heart better, prop it up with stilts, and whisper good things to it sometimes.

Say you've made it this far.

tell me you want me
tell me you need me
and promise me
you'll never leave me

When your patience wears short,
And the day seems too long...
When the night's first report
Sings a disappointing song...
You'll want to leave your ship of port,
And I'll remind you:
You are wrong.

Fickle be the weather,
For though the wind seems too strong,
Save your vigil for the sunrise
And don't believe that I am gone,
Because I'm here, and I will tell you,
Stay your sails,
For you are wrong.

It is a difficult decision,
Without crew to spur you on,
To depart on frigid waters
And ignore the siren's song.
You may fear that I'm not with you.
You may feel that I don't miss you.
...but here's my only issue:
You are wrong,
You are wrong!

I like to be reassured,
If I’m not I worry and stress.
so I try to tell you often,
about how you’re not like the rest.

I      
                  where has this happened before?
                    leave your shoes on at the door.

at the beginning
my lips were cold,
smothered down by an impending hold.
too scared to sing a song,
wouldn’t dream to sing along.
come dress up with me
take me outside
and dangle me over
your favorite waterfall.
i will drink from its rays
until they freeze up my pipes
and you fix them for me
without being asked.

                                                behind the sky
                                                 is your house
                         and you invite me every day

II

but i will never visit you
because you are not really here
and your soggy smile
gets me upset.
by coincidence we made a bet
that was intangible for you.
although i should confess, Father,
even before the time capsule
cell eroded to the surface
and laid the past out as a hostage.

                                         i never felt for you.
                                          i never liked you.
                                          i hate to admit it,
                                        i always lied to you.
                                        get away from you.
                                         get away from me.
                                           don’t come back
                                       until i can come back.
                                     i know it’s ******* you
                                  but it’s crushing me whole
                                 and now i’m blowing away
                                              and the holes
                                                   in the net
                                      are too big to catch me.

III

some days we can make it a game.
some days we microscope our pain.
wrap it up like bday presents
show it off like the pretty pheasants.

no that's a peacock
the boys are pretty
will i be pretty?

even though
it feels ******

i want to move somewhere woodsy
but i can’t go alone, oh
turn up the boom box
        so it drowns out the
SCREAM
                 ING

bu-dump bu-dump**
my heart beats
slow and constant
never stopping
never skipping
the same rate

bu-dump bu-dump
on my chest
I hold my hand
the feeling lulls me to sleep
it's my music
my reassurance

bu-dump bu-dump
I know I'm alive
I know I'm beating
I can feel it through me
I count the time why my beats
my heart beats