bittersweet recollections of your adolescence // 2019 poetry collection

earth #803

what is the point of worrying about a reality where i get it right

if i never get to see them.

this is the only reality i have and it's the only one i'll see

and i'm not sure if that makes me feel better or worse.

i lay in bed and think about all the things i would fix

and then i shake my head like an etch a sketch

wiping away all the thoughts that don't make sense

like how i know the first thing i would do

is change my major or not kiss that person

or kiss that person instead or study for my finals

and i know that those things are so stupid and small

like the two brain cells i have left

and the heartbeat i have still weakly banging on the walls

of my ribcage.

what is the point of worrying about a reality where i get it right

the idea of getting anything right is a foreign concept

i can't even conjure up the image of myself, content

no i don't want to think about how maybe i'm not a wreck

on earth #803

how maybe i changed my major

on earth #516

how maybe i could feel my mother's love

on earth #740

is that it?

the deeper i dig with the things i would fix i realize

this is the only reality i have and it's the only one i'll see

going back in time really wouldn't fix anything

going to another universe and seeing me happy would kill me

what is the point of worrying about a reality where i get it right

i am who i am because of all the screaming fights

the tears on a swingset

the screams into a pillow

the longing stares out of a car window

for another reality where i get it all right...