I’m going to stop running because I might embarrass myself in front of boys, and I might pull a muscle (or get my clothes dirty).
I can’t stay up until four in the morning anymore to watch anime, buzzing with energy and electricity in my bright bright shirts and bracelets. I can’t even keep my eyes open anymore. Planning to do so always ends in failure.
When the sun shines through the blinds and beckons me to the docks, to the water, to everything I love, I’m going to close them because I am tired and I don’t feel like getting out of this bed. It’s too hot outside.
I’m going to call it a day because my head hurts. No more fun, no more anything. Are these scars so ugly? You’d still prefer a tan? I need to take something, I need to see a doctor. I need to lie down. I have a headache and my back is sore.
I was once one of those girls in those songs about love, those teenage girl authors of poems about their boyfaces and what they would do for them, what they would give. Not because I thought it was the cool thing to do, but because I liked it.
I liked those girls.
I liked that feeling.
I felt awake. I felt like I could handle things.
I can’t find it now.
I stumble into my bed and sleep.
If I see you with hopes and dreams I might crush them. I’m bitter now. They’re turning me into something like them.
I remember when I used to be like you.
Not anymore, and you’re not far behind me.
It’s called being an adult.
It’s called growing up and it doesn’t matter if you want to do it, you will. And you probably won’t even notice the change until it’s too late to go back.
It’s subtle and inevitable. It’s not even that big of a deal. But it bothers me.
I want the feeling of last summer late at night in my aunt’s computer room with Edward swinging her arms and neon on my lips. The excitement of BANG- the discovery of more vague girls.
I even want that tugging of decisions made between girls and boys, mostly girls. Flirting over instant messages. So much drama.
If I can’t have the summer I at least want the ocean.
(Keep me in a dream world, don’t try to better me, I don’t want to be like you. I can manage without your “knowledge”. I don’t want to learn a damn thing. Leave me ignorant. I want to be happy, and if happy is thinking that that dolphin I saw was a killer whale, making a special trip to the surface to see me, don’t tell me “they don’t swim these waters”).