the sunsets and the sun rises creating each day and each night and not once does it ask permission the night will still be pink with light pollution because of the single office illuminators, found in every breathing building the night shift family I never met, will still glow behind little screens or candle light thought bubbles and ink the morning will still spill coffee all over him but only on mondays, when he’s running late mondays will always come sunday mornings will still petition against alarm clocks and sunday, hereself, will always win it will rain and it won’t either way, without me a.m.
I think it’s the Sundays that hit me the hardest Coming down from the high of the weekend only to realize Oh. Right. I have school tomorrow.
And don’t tell me to get over myself That I’m just “Overflowing with hormones” And “School isn’t that bad, You just feel the way you do because you’re a teenager”
I mean, I’m sure that’s part of it, But really Who wants to go to a place where they feel stupid and ******, Overwhelmed and helpless All the ******* time
School isn’t really even about learning anymore, The average student doesn’t retain the information, We just cram it into our heads day after day until that glorious time of the year comes-- Summer And then we forget
But on these tense Sunday evenings, When i feel the weight of everyone’s crushing expectations of me, How i should be, What i should be doing, What i could be doing RIGHT NOW OVER AND OVER AGAIN I just feel like going to my room to cry