These words are not meant to be spoken,
but they should never, ever be read

 

This semester, I,
spent time
sitting around doing
nothing,
being nothing,
training for nothing and yearning for
so much more,

This semester, I,
said so much that I,
would do, thought of these plans that ran rampant then stagnant
felt fragments,
And these memories…?
They fall like snowflakes on a frosty Monday morning.

As if
to say, so?
so, what about it?

But I,
didn’t, I,
didn’t not-care about the results of these few months, I didn’t want a retreat-repetition of last time I came here
because
Last semester,
I was
depressed.
I
tried to do these things and
I
couldn’t, so then
I
spent my days all alone in that room spending time that ticked away as the clock rang incessantly against my brain, against my skull, and I knew that there were things that had to be done, there is so much to achieve but youcouldnevergetBR
E
a
the.

but you,
brea
you could never do anything right.
the.
you could never do anything right?

so I
broke out of
these cycles and I
think about
the days that have passed as I
realize
there’s a week and a half of school, precious experiences that I have forgone for the sake of computer screens and telephone calls cross seas and lands I have not seen,
wasted time away seated in rooms, staring at ceilings feeling isolated, solitary, and alone

and/yet
I wonder

have I,
did I,
truly live?

Every experience I have made my own
Every trial I have tried to overcome
What does that mean?
It means you tried your best, hon.
It means that whatever you did,
you went hard,
I,
talked to people,
I took initiative,
I, walked, and shopped and I made missions,
I made plans and I damn well followed them through, or tried to follow them all the way through,
So what if
I didn’t do my homework and I procrastinate way too often,
if
I spent way too much time next to computer screens?
I will still wait for telephone calls across seas and lands
and, mark my words, I will see them someday.
And though I lay dying, wasting time and breath
I’ve had glimpses,
seen scenes of fortune and fame run rampant not stagnant
in my mind as I laid across a bedframe that kept these dreams
alive
and no,
marijuana had nothing to do with it although I’ve taken a hit or two.

Finally
felt that
maybe I

was accomplishing something with my life,
I know that I’m in a rough spot.
And it’s hard, kid,
Life is tough love,
the kind of love you give to a kid without a father,
child support checks and silly screaming ad nauseum at Mickey D’s over custody claims and (oh, my god) bacon-egg croissants,

the
kind of tough love you tell to your boyfriend slash girlfriend slash I don’t really know because it never really clicked what you wanted to be, but I hope you’ve worked it out because I think I’m finally moving on from that weird phase of sexuality although I’m still wondering if I’m still kind of fucked up,
But you get the point. Life is hard, kid.
In the mirror, reflected, the little boy says,

“I know, I’ve been there.”