The sentence of an almost adult
For the crime of surviving this long
Not living
Eyes closed, shut tight
The only thing that had my name on it before now were
Essays, tests, and assignments handed back at the end of class
And poetry that I never took the time to share with anyone
This year my name came back on
A package for a replacement sewing machine lightbulb,
College emails in my inbox,
And a passport for travel across the Atlantic Ocean
Squinting eyes,
Glasses off and pulled up hair,
The number black letters
This year was a reality check
I blinked my eyes open for once
The white hot light scorched
But now I can no longer shield my eyes
Balance, Discovery, Commitment
All of these things take effort to achieve
Effort that I'm no longer too lazy to strive towards
Instead of living for my writing,
I'll start writing about my living
Every day being treated like a blessing
Rather than a burden
It's a gift to heave this chest
To keep this life going
The number 16
Signified a year in my life
When I finally realized
That life is what you make it
Deciding that you have no use is no longer an option
I wish to take
This year was shaped by late nights of doing homework
Of deciding and redeciding and redeciding what my future will hold
Of exhaustion taking my poetic mind from me
But, overall, I wouldn't have it any other way