THIS LIFE

by EMILY

I think a lot, but I wish I didn’t
though. I think of good things, bad
things, things you could never know.

I reload every second from a pile of
mesh. My brain is like a supercomputer
always stuck on refresh.

I do crazy things and mess up
too much. I’ve realized things can
fall apart with only the slightest touch.

I’m surrounded by the world and
trapped in my own home, my life
seems to stay in my small comfort zone.

Change is inevitable and sometimes
that thought scares me. It’s like
the universe doesn’t know
this is how I want it to be.

Random things pop into my
head at all the wrong times.
Like what if everything Dr. Seuss
says is only made up of rhymes?

Or do chickens have their own
secret language they use when
no one’s around? Does it mean
I have a desire that makes me
crazy, but has yet to be found?

Am I incapable of being normal and
acting right? And is it bad when
both sides of your brain
always seem to fight?

Does it make sense that I make
wishes even though I know they
won’t come true? Or is it stupid to
think that others might do it, too?

Does it make me a bad person because
sometimes i hate the people that I’m supposed
to love? And when they try to get close
I push them away with one big shove.

I guess I’m crazy, insane, a total
nut job. I’m just happy my door
hasn’t been knocked down by
a full-blown mob.

Sometimes I wish there was one
person on earth that I could
talk to about this stuff. But
there’s not, so I’ll go on
pretending that this life isn’t tough.