When you graduate bottom of your class a diplomas nothing more than a fucking participation trophy.
Maybe i’ll take a gap year or two (3-4-5)
Suddenly i’m 23 years old working a dead end career like the rest of this godforsaken country.
This year all I want for my birthday is a job that pays enough to afford the gas to get there. (safeword: I quit).
I guess I could walk out too. Just like my dad did to my mom. Just like anybody does to everybody who dares to care.
Don’t you dare to care. I’ll ramble on about my childhood friends and little league team until your ears bleed (and then i’ll probably ask you to light up).
Staring at the stars until our necks get sore and the stars spell out names of old exes and siblings we don’t talk to anymore (not because we don’t want to).
Sorry buddy, i miss you too. (I wish we were kids again) Tell mom I love her.
I would cut out my tongue to wake up for school one more time. All 10 fingers to play hooky and sit in the basket of the cart as my mom complains about the price of eggs. An arm to get lice and have my mom wash my hair one last time.