Fainting Goat

I miss him

Nothing reminds me of him because I don't allow it to

Both of those things can be true at once

He would be proud of me, probably, but I guess he would probably also have a lot to say

I was 11—just a little girl playing on the swing set. I saw the picnic table, a white mother and her daughter were walking toward me. They were getting closer and closer as their baritone steps bared down on the rough pavement.

The screen stares back at me: 

9:30 pm, 

an unfinished assignment, 

a deadline due. 

My weary chest heaves a heavy breath. 

Can I tell you something?

I know it’s crazy but it’s nothing like how it is inside my mind.

Can I tell you a secret?

I’ve been falling for a while,

And I’m starting to give up on pretending,

I don’t not like you.

The screen in my window’s still down —

no wonder it’s so cold up here.

You’d think I’d know better, a house this old, this time of year.

And here I thought I shivered for the stress,

Dear World, 

I am teenager. I am on the cusp of life, a time when my entire life is ahead of me yet I am beginning to feel as if some parts of it are behind me.