Reid@YWP

When I was little,

the window was a battlefield of light,

streetlights turned into stars,

and the world moved fast enough

for a hero to keep up with me.

He ran beside the car,

Being a teenager means 

Schrodinger's cat isn't just a concept anymore 

The person you are 

is simultaneously alive and dead 

I met the strangest man today. He was dressed in a white lab coat, and he had a face like that falling sensation that jolts you awake when you're trying to fall asleep.

Watching 

the flat white clouds 

melt onto the field. The  

subdued earth suffocates—my breath

quickens. 

How do I know that this will ever be enough? I can’t picture myself settling.

Is it okay that I wish for my grandmother to die?