the essay

i should be editing an essay right now,
for an old white man to approve of. 
tonight my brain feels like running,
my body feels like laying still.

sometimes when i see my name written down
it doesnt look like mine at all.
sometimes when i look in the mirror,
i dont look like me at all.

i am avoiding sending an email,
but i would like to send an email.
having a place to run to is a blessing and a curse.

i burned a few sticky note to-do lists tonight.
i could have burned more.
i would have liked to burn more.
my life is check boxes, check boxes, check boxes.

im not sure if i feel like a person very much anymore.
i am just a few things, exaggerated.
i am rarely just a person on earth.

i have got to work on this essay.
i will not work on this essay.

sometimes i let old men make me feel small.
i walk faster up the stairwell when a boy is behind me.
i would like to be less afraid.
i would like to take up space.

the thought of change makes me want to puke
the thought of things staying the same makes me want to cry
circles, circles. 
i wish things would quiet down inside my brain.

i havent talked to you in months.
im sorry, i miss you, im just
busy. 

i should be editing the essay.