Poetry

YOU WILL NEVER KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT US HAHAHAHAHA Sorry that is NOT my sentence. Okay here is the real thing: It's the end of the world as we know it, and I feel fine. That is the name of a song by the band REM.

Freedom is a concept I think about often.

A concept I don't really understand.

Yes, we have it.

But it often feels like we don't.

How am I supposed to see how free I truly am, when I just feel trapped?

Experiences.

They're a gift all on their own.

Spending time with friends, laughing and talking about stuff that doesn't even really matter to anyone but us.

Immersing myself in a world of roleplay, where I'm whoever I want.

Because of these things called phones, those of us born in the digital world have far too large receptors for dopamine.

Miniature computers, larger dopamine receptors.

Harder to get content and joy.

Everyone is booing,

Hi, how are you failing?

At everything you do.

Are you absolutely insane,

Why are you just constantly not doing your work?

When we see flaws in ourselves

we withdraw from society

curl in on ourselves

trying to hide from our insecurities.

The thing is

people struggle to understand

that their faults are a part of themselves

The first thing I ever understood about falling in love

is that it keeps you coming back

like magnets

whether it's good for you or bad for you

you're addicted.

And I didn't know the scope of it -

Headphones on, life off.

Turn up the sound 

to drown out

the deluge of my worries,

let the rhythm burn

my ears, ignore

the sting, because my

cheap blue headphones 

bring me

this happens too often:

attachment to that one friend;

a text—a hey—oh look,

i'm crying again.

you read it but you don't respond,

you play your games instead;

A site I was hesitant to join at first,
A place where people share their opinions, emotions,
And little pieces of their mind.

Yesterday

you looked in the mirror

said to yourself,

ugh

I look ugly

she's so ugly

ew

last week

you saw your reflection in the window

New year's resolutions.

I tell myself a lot of things every year -

I never listen.

No boys, no distractions.

Too late.

This time is different I think -

I want that senior solo