Frightful Struggle

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
I wrote this on one of the many nights I was struggling with papers and life as a whole.

Submitted: December 16, 2012

A A A | A A A

Submitted: December 16, 2012






Lack there of

But this poem comes first

Words of mine take priority over theirs

I deny conforming

I lose my passion

While they gain their pay checks

My counselor tells me I should speak to them

Tell them that my father lost his job

Tell them that our health insurance has been snatched out of our hands

Tell them that I’ve gone back to a job I love

For reasons I hate

Tell them that I didn’t just become 20 on my birthday this year


I became an adult

I became responsible

I became the last hope

High school diploma


Bachelor’s degree

Processing, expect delays ahead

Master’s degree

Heavy turbulence, estimated arrival time

Not available

As I formulate these words and my thought process calms

I get jumbled

It’s not a moment of ADD

It’s not the hormones jumping around my brain

Like sperm sensing a vagina is near

Jumbled thoughts in the sense that I’m


Yesterday seems so far away

But yesterday I wasn’t a kid

Today I dissipate into the swarm of students

And workers

And somebodys

Slithering onto the bus

That will charter me to a future that I did not plan

Tonight I will slink into my bed

Hugging the bear I’ve had since I was too old for Barney

Curling into the cold, empty, paper thin sheets

Feel my pulse slowing as I enter sleep

I will dream of the dark times

I only ever think of

That never really happen

Until they actually do

What you choose to see of me

Depends on what you’re looking for

If you open my soul

And take a peek inside

You will be blinded by light

I could joke and tell you that it’s filled with rainbows and unicorns

That’s what I’d say to my friends

That’s how they know me

But really

This light is my guide

And without it

I don’t know my purpose

Yet even though I know where it is

I don’t always know

My purpose

If I’m helping my parents pay the bills

If I’ve aged myself purposely while the rest of you are trying to look younger

If I’m sacrificing my grades in classes that should matter more than anything to me

Then really

What is my purpose?




Lack there of

This poem comes first

These words take precedence

I dream of the day I’ll sit in the front of my class

And be able to say “my students”

But I shake my head

Because I’m not ready

I can’t practice what I preach

I’m morphing into a woman who needs guidance in getting her predicaments into an order that tells her which one comes first and second and third and fourth and fifth

Baby steps

An adult body

An adult brain

A baby comprehension

A massive jolt of caffeine cannot even

Cannot even solve what I must complete

If at first you don’t succeed

Yeah, you know, you try, try again

But until when?


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