Senioritis is literally the worse condition of them all. I mean what other disease can make an individual stop caring so much about their entire life despite knowing the importance of certain tasks?

I mean, don’t even get me started on how many assignments I have missing in the gradebook right now. Should I be worried about them? ABSOLUTELY. Even getting one math problem might move my gpa to tears.

Oh my poor, poor gpa. Once a shining 4.0 is now facing true demise in the social realm of nerds. (*gasp* Oh no! A 3.5?? Whatever shall she do??)

Like who knows what miracle is required to get me to pass Stats class even if I did try to make an effort at this time. Of course the better alternative is to just sit in my room and stare at the ceiling and complain how terrible high school is and lament the fact that I still have to go there for the next two months despite having been accepted to various institutions since basically December and committed to a university for almost three months now.

In all honesty, it’s pathetic. The fact that I must sit and suffer through a mythology class of busy work and sit unflinching through another stats course in which I basically don’t understand a word is sad. My high school refuses to let students have free periods. Not even seniors. Which if you think about it is absolute crap. I’ve had enough credits to graduate since my sophmore year. It’s not even like I would’ve failed out of school too because ya gurl had straight A’s and a plethora of AP classes.

Trust me, I have sucked the bone marrow out of the education I could have. And in all honesty, I’m exhausted. I’m tired of adults pointing fingers at me and telling me that I have so much more potential. Like even they know that their words are flimsy because I’m not going to get removed from my university now. Especially not when a surpass their average student by lightyears. I do not mean to brag, I simply mean to tell you of a wonderous mind that once resided in my head that managed to get me this far.

It’s not even like this mind has abandoned me. Instead, it rests in my skull day after day and achieves ultimate boredom. It cries to be used for something other than useless arithmetic.

But I will be honest, there are benefits to senioritis. Because I could not care enough about school at this point in my life, I’ve decided that it would be better to just find new passions. Now, I’m already a student of many interests from dance and violin to Model UN and HOSA. But I decided to try something entirely different.

I made a youtube channel. That’s right-- this nerd is a youtuber now. And an instagrammer. I’ve started my first business without having to invest any money (though I project it will be two years before I can make any profit from it).

All this wouldn’t exist without senioritis pushing me to look away from academics. And in fact, after years of thinking I would definitely pursue an academic career whether it be in law or medicine or engineering, I finally came to the conclusion that this like just ain’t it for this gal.

Yes, I dreamed for so long to publish my own novel. And maybe someday I’ll return to that dream. But for now I write for myself, even if it seems like gibberish or disjointed thoughts. I’m putting the lid on this box and putting it on the shelf.

It’s time to explore the world and achieve my non-academic dreams. I’m still going to university in the fall and will be surely dedicated to my collegiate studies more than my current highschool courses but I now know that despite everybody says, I’m not a scholar.

And honestly, maybe at my core, I never was. Maybe I’m not supposed to your stereotypical story of a highschool nerd rising to be the jock’s boss. Nah fam.

I’m gonna own an empire that the nerdiest nerds will beg to be a part of.

I believe in me. And you know what? Maybe I can’t stay on topic and ramble on and somehow take the conversation from senioritis to my future goals but whatever. I’m only 18. I don’t need to know my entire life now. I just need to make sure I’m choosing a good path.

***

—I worry about the worry.

The cortisol,

they say it eats at you—

***

#micropoetry

#poetry

#mentalhealth

I thought that I had herpes

It’s so simple

It’s so complex

Call it

Simplex

I’ve tried eating my feelings

I’ve tried drinking my feelings

I’ve found feeling my feelings

An exercise in failed fortitude

This time

I slid my feelings between my thighs

Let men make a molehill out of me

From a mountain of pain

And I poured it out

In fake orgasm

The kind you learn

When no touch

Feels right

So I’m gonna write it down

All the things I did

A shame spiral from a fountain pen

I’ll splash the grief upon my own

Skin

Tattoo a scarlet letter

Walk around like I've got that red on my chest

Expect the best when I’ve exercised

All of the worst

Options

A woman could wonder at

Wander into

And I think that dating apps

Are really just a way

To play Candy Crush with your

Vagina

When you level up

The lines become so blurry

All the sweetness

Is just a stockpile

Of crossed lines

Blurred boundaries

And,

I do not have herpes.

Call it simple

Call it complex

I call it simplex

time is a road that never ends

it has been my privilege to pretend

that i’ll walk with you forever and a day

i cherish these unspoken thoughts

for unheard will never mean forgotten—

my soul unwinds, slow and gentle, in your wake

i would ask the wheeling sphere of stars

to unfurl itself, so that worlds afar

might comfort you and lie beneath your head

for there would i lie beside you, breathing,

listening beneath the skin, where beating

is a silent mark of all we’ve done and said

the greatest of which was in defiance

of that ending so distant, so pale and silent

which neither of us could comprehend, anyway…

so until that silence comes to pass

i will wait with you here in the long, green grass

where the space between our words has more to say

Six.

A scream and a crash. Something wasn’t right. The pitch was higher than normal, filled with more fear than anger, and the silence that followed was a nightmare in and of itself.

Six.

She held her eyes tight. If she just kept her eyes closed she couldn’t see. If she couldn’t see then nothing would happen. And naturally, if nothing happened then she couldn’t relive it in her sleep later.

Six.

Glass broke. Her delicate fingers curled into small, fretful fists. More screams. And then the crying in her closet. She squeezed her eyes just a bit tighter to hold back the burning salt water before opening them.

Six.

Her tiny irises slowly focused on the gentle light pouring from the shelf over her bed. A miniature castle all softly lit, light streaming through the rose window panes. Her whole room blushing in the night as it watched her dream.

Six.

Her gaze hung in the sparkling castle windows. If she slept in that castle, it would probably be quiet. Like the world had breathed in and would hold it until the morning. She’d fall to sleep to dream with a rose flush covering her and the walls, and wake to the pale yellow of the sun bathing her in daybreak. And as her eyes opened the world would exhale and she’d take in her first morning breaths.

Six.

Volume poured in from the room down the hall and the crying in the closet picked back up. A heavy sigh and dainty footsteps carried her to the small voice.

Six.

She held onto the petite hands and smiled. Her finger drug gently across the bridge of the nose and her mouth shushed and hushed. The tears slowed and the breathing calmed. And as the storm slowly seemed to quell and pass, the tiny faces began to rest.

Six.

Wood split. Screams echoed through their dreams. Booming, foreign voices tearing into the night. And she woke with a start. And she must see what calamity exploded just past her almost closed door.

Six.

Mama?

Six.

And he sat. Tears streaming. Feet planted squarely on the carpet to the side of the bed. Glittering puddles of glass strewn across the floor. Clothes hung from the drawers in front of him, tangled around each other from being dug through in haste. The tv box playing static, and the lighting low.

Six.

And all around were the men in black. Bright lights held at their waists. Slow, deep voices dangling in the air where there should be the steady, quiet breathing of sleep.

Six.

Mama?!

Six.

And the tears pinched at her eyes. And her voice hung up somewhere in her throbbing chest.

Six.

Six.

No, baby! Go back to your room! Take your sister back, baby! It’s not safe!

Six.

Six.

Six.

Six.

Six.

And with his eyes vacant and staring, he sat. Feet planted squarely on the carpet to the side of the bed. And his hand rested on cold metal, held as tightly as a lifeline, pushing deep into his temple.

Six.

Six.

Six.

Six.

Six.

Six.

And that’s when the dreams ceased and the nightmares became unending.

It was first the taste of tangerine

then cinnamon upon my tongue

the burn of nicotine and tequila

dog breath and bare feet

concrete heat

laughter between a page

thick splinters on a broken finger

Awake in a hand me down sweater

Playing Russian roulette

with black helicopters

iron strings that sting the tongue

whips and hot kisses

petty pricks an inch away

Nowhere is fast as nothing

Riddles reveal solitude

As a synapse fires and

slowly collapses on

pistol nightstands

made of splintered wood

Sunday and you set fire to time

dance on your grave at sunrise

no motion between emotion

forge a stone photo

fuck memory

Naked only to

recapture your heartbeat

phones ring in

empty rooms

with no answers

I️ follow fire trucks

with bare feet just

to catch a glimpse

of your death

Now a fraud in all future events

Hatred blasts

audible

sound waves

reverberations

nauseating

if lucky

we were

once a hero

to one another

That ring of keys

hang on an empty lock

Indifference

luxury

sharp fangs

that feel

helpless

venom

all the way

to the bank

Give freely

responsible gypsy

this planet now an

earthquake playground

fueled by fire and night

strong mind

body tight

drink

Look for you

until my eyes

turn black

walk with your

blood stained shirt

Touch the stains

while the world sleeps

You

underground

better in dreams

enough to wander

close enough to point

to this strange

map of time

Land lost

Feet slip on desert sand

start again

coffee and no nicotine

Record skips

Rewinds

Replays

Erases

Reality

untethered

fickle friends

grip cold sheets

flat alleys curl

against my soft body

a fly falls into a cold

cup of water

force a smile

Ruined and needed

dry lips and skin

sleep quick

mummified

good chance

that I am dead

In this world

no other me

Beneath

This truth

force a solid grin

as the world crumbles

from beneath my feet

stand with weak knees

Delusional contortionist

Painting walls neon white

Running over speed bumps

Hoping over scotch

remember

who we were

before we were

Gravity sweet friend

Hold me down

As I sleep

Never staying

Never straying

Never asking

simplicity

completely

complicated

Your laughter still

soft in my belly

and all that matters

is matter and time

and not even that

is enough to appease

the truth that you are dead.