somewhere between midnight and june

Lying awake at midnight, watching as each blade of the fan spins around, one by one. My bed absorbs me as I think, "hey, maybe I should write something".

Ceiling blank, mind anything but empty, walls plastered with posters, but not quite enough to say I'm satisfied with the way it looks. A medium-sized pumpkin that I've had since October sits atop my dresser, one that I refuse to throw away because I claim it brings the New York Mets good luck, even though their "playoff pumpkin" is a thing of the past.

The floor is nowhere to be seen, covered with clean laundry that should have been put away weeks ago, and a singular grey area rug that I don't think has been vacuumed once since I got it.

My computer is open in front of me, countless tabs waiting to be closed, one of which is a dreaded research paper for a dreaded class, yet I sit here writing this useless poem about my bedroom instead of the 160-point paper that has to be so important. A smart decision? No, but a decision it is indeed.

It's May, the month of the "it's the end of the year so I'm going to flood you with work because I feel like it" teachers. School consumes my time and energy. Finals are right around the corner and with some teachers, I don't hear the end of it, but with others, I haven't even heard the start. June 5th is less than a month away, but it couldn't feel any farther than it does now.

The more I think about it, the more I realize that summer is within my reach, and as excited as I am, to me, summer has become more of a reminder that another year of my childhood is gone, one that I can never get back. A summer closer to sophomore year, a summer closer to adulthood, something that kids are forced into way too fast, but hey, at least I get a break from that reality. At least for a little while.