QueenBee

Why do you love this?

What makes you keep doing it?

I am always asked these questions.

How do I tell them

How do I say

That sometimes it's the only thing that matters to me?

Everybody's excited.

It's summer, after all.

I lie in my room, terrified of the pool parties,

The farmers markets,

The ice cream,

The fun,

The outside,

The friends,

The library.

I email you, to feel the elation when you respond.

I didn't think you would.

When you did I felt hope

For the first time in years.

Back and forth, once.

Flipping through pages upon pages,

Memories, but most of other people.

Our yearbook committee has been infiltrated,

And you can tell.

I am not represented here.

None of us are.

I told myself I’d anchor myself

In fifth grade.

I lost myself in sixth.

Created myself in seventh. 
Now in this horrible in between

I wonder if I can be the person I have been

Without you?

You are a liar and a brick

And you only care what your friends think.

Who are you?

Did you never stop to consider it was my first time, too?

And I’m not the only one who messed up?