when i fall in love, i'll take my time. there's no need to hurry when i'm making up my mind.
you can turn off the sun, but i'm still gonna shine. and i'll tell you why.
oh sigh. why am i such a freakin brooding poet, even when i'm not writing? speaking of which, i think it's finally time. time to start writing again, that is. it's been a year since i've finished a poem. an entire year. driscoll and delp would be so angry. but you know, i always felt unwelcomed there, because i was a first year senior, because i won that scholarship and felt like not a single one of my poems ever lived up to $10,000. not even close. and maybe they knew that too. i always wished i could be like ani or kea or louisa...where i had something established at interlochen. but it was never really my home, although i loved it there. it is still the place i left last may, and i feel my connections to it disappearing by the minute. the only people i still talk to from school are janneke and dorette. i miss all of you...and i congradulate you on your graduation and all your wonderful accomplishments...bri, kit, drew, neil...it's crazy to think that you're going off to college. and i'm still here in michigan, at a commuter school. am i wasting my time? i could transfer, but now it seems i'm stuck with my half-assed decisions.
which brings me to my living arrangement. within the next month, my life will become something else. i will be living with my father for the first time since i was 4 years old. my father. i almost don't know what to think. no, scratch the almost. i'm afraid of so many things. of being an adult, of switching jobs (yes, i'm leaving the picnic basket...more in a minute), of not living with my mother, of paying bills and being responsible for everything i do, of making my own hours and knowing that not only will i be relying on myself, but so will my dad, because let's face it, he's not in good health. he expects me to take care of him, really. and i knew that was coming, but it's so frightening now that it's right here. i'm so scared of what will happen in the coming years. we might run out of money, in which case we would lose the house and it would be on my credit record. i might want to do something different with my life. i might get a job when i finish school, i might get sick of michigan and want to transfer. hell, i might even want to live with (gasp) a boy at some point. not necessarily saying matt, although that would be the most obvious guy, and i'd certainly be happy with that, but who knows what'll happen in a year, two, three. but if that happens, will i feel like i'm abandoning my father? and where will he go without me? he depends on me. and that's only going to become more and more true in the next couple of years, as he gets older. in three years my father will be 60. he's on his way to being a fucking senior citizen. my own dad. jesus.
i'm going to miss the childishness of my house now. curfews, my mom waking me up for work or school, even when i don't ask her to. dinner on the table, everything paid for. no boys in the room, bed made before you go out for the night, make sure to check in if you go somewhere else.
really, if you think about it, being 18 doesn't make you an adult.
oh sigh. why am i such a freakin brooding poet, even when i'm not writing? speaking of which, i think it's finally time. time to start writing again, that is. it's been a year since i've finished a poem. an entire year. driscoll and delp would be so angry. but you know, i always felt unwelcomed there, because i was a first year senior, because i won that scholarship and felt like not a single one of my poems ever lived up to $10,000. not even close. and maybe they knew that too. i always wished i could be like ani or kea or louisa...where i had something established at interlochen. but it was never really my home, although i loved it there. it is still the place i left last may, and i feel my connections to it disappearing by the minute. the only people i still talk to from school are janneke and dorette. i miss all of you...and i congradulate you on your graduation and all your wonderful accomplishments...bri, kit, drew, neil...it's crazy to think that you're going off to college. and i'm still here in michigan, at a commuter school. am i wasting my time? i could transfer, but now it seems i'm stuck with my half-assed decisions.
which brings me to my living arrangement. within the next month, my life will become something else. i will be living with my father for the first time since i was 4 years old. my father. i almost don't know what to think. no, scratch the almost. i'm afraid of so many things. of being an adult, of switching jobs (yes, i'm leaving the picnic basket...more in a minute), of not living with my mother, of paying bills and being responsible for everything i do, of making my own hours and knowing that not only will i be relying on myself, but so will my dad, because let's face it, he's not in good health. he expects me to take care of him, really. and i knew that was coming, but it's so frightening now that it's right here. i'm so scared of what will happen in the coming years. we might run out of money, in which case we would lose the house and it would be on my credit record. i might want to do something different with my life. i might get a job when i finish school, i might get sick of michigan and want to transfer. hell, i might even want to live with (gasp) a boy at some point. not necessarily saying matt, although that would be the most obvious guy, and i'd certainly be happy with that, but who knows what'll happen in a year, two, three. but if that happens, will i feel like i'm abandoning my father? and where will he go without me? he depends on me. and that's only going to become more and more true in the next couple of years, as he gets older. in three years my father will be 60. he's on his way to being a fucking senior citizen. my own dad. jesus.
i'm going to miss the childishness of my house now. curfews, my mom waking me up for work or school, even when i don't ask her to. dinner on the table, everything paid for. no boys in the room, bed made before you go out for the night, make sure to check in if you go somewhere else.
really, if you think about it, being 18 doesn't make you an adult.