it's a shallow treat,
i was standing in the shower with my shirt and vest still wrapped on,
feeling the solid outline of the lighter in the left vest pocket. vent running, windows with bubbles of light marking me on the legs. there were charcoal specks pouring out my hand, smoke blowing through the curtains, and i stood there squinching like i've got fists for eyes. started singing walcott, with the water covering up the tingling in my toes. the beginning is always the best- the ending is only well liked thereafter, because it is the rite of passage for new beginnings.
i'm so fucking scared, and i just watch you guys lose yourself in this
"i know exactly where i am, where i'm going, where i'll be-" facade. yeah well, quoth the freshman, quoth the sophomore, quoth the junior, quoth the unprepared senior. ( / read: everyone in highschool.) and then you all dig my own hole, burrying me under the things i thus far love, assuming they are what i want to do and live off of, exclusively. and what if they're not, right? and what if they aren't what i'm best at? and what if this isn't what i want, right? what if i don't know, does that make me a senior reject amongst you? because really, i'm thinking it means that i'm taking some shots in the dark, since my guidance counselors have not guided nor counseled. and i'm thinking you're in the same dark. quit acting like i'm the only seveteen year old looking for a source of light i belong to. you're all looking for the light too- if you weren't, i wouldn't be the one making you feel strong when your hopes start to drip. you all hide behind your academics, what your peers have told you is right. and my mother's bathroom will only keep me for so long.
until they start smelling the smoke.
everbody's looking at you like they want to,
like they want to go home with you