Dear High School,


While I write from the midst of you,

In this classroom birthed from you,

I write with extreme love and hate.

With disdain, and respect.


I have yet to see your end,

yet to wave goodbye with tears and anger,

content and smiles,

holding my own hand.

Yet to let go of your railings,

I thank you for so much.


Thank you for the person you made me.

The people I was inevitably bound to let go of.

The way I dress, and the things I like and

my personality of non-conformity.

I finally love who I am, and I am finally comfortable with the person I was.


I am humbled and raw,

from your peer pressure, and lack thereof.

Your truths and lessons hidden in your pearl,

hidden behind the flesh of old and toxic.


You supplied me with the resources to find my past,

and my future.

You made sense of my tragedies.
And organized my unknowns of fate.


I hold my own hand down this path now,

and it’s not difficult, or sad.

I am grateful and unashamed to be alone.

You, High School, did this to me.

But I love it and I am more at the pinnacle of life than I have ever been.


You taught me physics and writing and forced me to read 1984,

but your most important lesson to me was, in fact,

your lessons of loneliness..

Because there is nothing wrong with being alone.


After all, that was the only lesson all along.


This poem is about: 
My community