3:27 a.m.

I wish I was home

In my closest-thing-to-a-childhood-bedroom

when there wasn’t

weed in the couch

and money was made

from teeth

under a pillow.

But then you’re thirteen and things are changing

middle school makes you want to be cool

but you’re still awkward,

shy but starting to get

shut down

by the world

so scared by the harsh realities

of those small halls, glasses flying

blushing embarrassment

and a young woman’s body

but not hers, yours

Ashamed.

Suddenly in high school, almost seventeen

and feeling

so old

driving and feeling free, but not yet having flown

Not the real taste of freedom

That’s Really in disguise by promise.

Big girl decisions;

Alter ego and Id fight daily.

Zoom forward to college

and the beginning of the first year is nothing

like the end of the second.

What am I doing here besides boosting my ego

and getting nowhere?

So fervently wishing for childhood.

It’s not the glasses that are rose colored,

it’s hope that taints our eyes.

Author's Note

Long time, no see.

Reviews

[Verdant Cynic]

Very wistful and nostalgic. This brings me back to my memories of youth. I like the last verse: "It’s not the glasses that are rose colored, it’s hope that taints our eyes." I feel so warm and safe thinking about my bygone days, and the biggest reason is that back then, I felt this sense of hope and wonder for the future. Thanks for sharing!