Sweet Dire Words

How many times will I cut my hair til I just become that throbbing impulse itself and embody a changed me? How many times will I change through outfits to make myself comfortable or feel like I have a reason to be dressed today? How many times will I fall in love only to fall out of it and cry as I tell them no more? How many times will I tell myself that this is the semester I will be the good student I use to be whenever I was young, full of contentedness instead of anxiety? Only to repeat it again the next semester. I’m tired of my own bullshit. Of these regurgitated situations and feelings. I wish a fire would consume me. That I would have that sudden realization that something is happening to me; that I am happening! I’m aching from the strong arching curve of a question mark that my spine has adopted shape from. - What do I really want if not this?

I feel like I have to reintroduce myself so often to others, to myself. And, I just bury the problem of growth away because I hate to think that I’ve changed in the bad ways that I have and in the good ways that I don’t think others will understand or accept.  This year I became beautiful. I became selfish. I became lazy and stupid. I became aware and confident. I became loving. I became more myself. But I also became a secret to guard from others and a secret to myself as I looked ahead and wondered what I really am. I feel stuck inside my present arrangements and circumstances in life. Am I who I need to be? Am I where I need to be? How long am I going to have to wonder?

Things I’m missing that I had when I was still in the general education system: