Packing Day

The air is dry and easy,

Not the kind of cold that scares me back into my dorm,

Finally, we've had a week where the sun is feeling sociable,

It twinkles off of paintjobs and our tall glass windows,

I'm packing my things to stay with a friend this Thanksgiving,

Each belonging I pack feels a bit heavier than the first,

There's a suspicious feeling in my stomach that says,

"Life is hectic, but you're going to be okay.. one day"

I've accepted that this isn't my time to celebrate,

I'm not in the prime of my life,

It's my time to rebuild,

Let these bruises recover,

As I stuff the laundry I forgot to wash into my luggage,

I think about all the horrible things I'll get myself into,

All the nights on my own,

All the bills left unpaid,

"Stupid boy" I hear my sister echo in my mind,

I wonder how she must think of me,

What everyone must think of me,

All of this insanity has made it impossible to keep track of myself,

Right and wrong have become so relative,

My world becoming blurred,

But I will figure this out,

This life will be difficult,

But nothing worth doing is easy,


I'm 20 years old,

So what if I make a few mistakes?

How else will I learn who I am?

How else does one write a poem?


I have had the urge to grab people,

shake them,

and say,

"You idiot!"(for some this is all I say)

"Just be who you are. Even if you are broken and worthless. Even if you'll never fit in this society, it doesn't matter, start your own! Just be yourself and love it because no one can take that away but you."

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This is poem #50! Thank you to everyone who has been a reader of my work! I know the last few lines in this one are a bit incoherrent but I just felt that I shouldn't take this poems too seriously and I just said what I wanted to say.

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