This is how to run a stick of Chapstick
down the black boxes on your scantron
so the grading machine skips the wrong
answers. This is how to honor roll. Hell,
this is how to National Honor Society.
This is being voted “Most Likely to Marry
for Money” or “Talks the Most, Says the
Least” for senior superlatives. This is
stepping around the kids having panic
attacks in the hallway. This is being the
kid having a panic attack in the hallway.
This is making the A with purple moons
stamped under both eyes. We had to try.
This is telling the ACT supervisor you have
ADHD to get extra time. Today, the average
high school student has the same anxiety
levels as the average 1950’s psychiatric
patient. We know the Pythagorean theorem
by heart, but short-circuit when asked
“How are you?” We don’t know. We don’t
know. That wasn’t on the study guide.
We usually know the answer, but rarely
1) You’re going to leave the house at 2AM, 16 with nothing in your pockets but 50 bucks and a bus ticket. It won’t feel real. You’re going to think you’re leaving, but you aren’t going anywhere.
2) Swallow your fucking pride and go back inside. Lock your bedroom door, put your hands over your ears, bring your knees to your chest and when you’re ready, let your walls disintegrate and the sadness flood in, because baby I promise you, you’ll feel better if you just let yourself drown. Even if it’s the third goddamn time that week.
3) He’s going to taste like Newports, Trident spearmint and desperation. You’re going to taste like Lime-a-Rita’s and anxiety. You will tell yourself you need this. But you don’t. I promise you. You don’t. You don’t.
4) You’re going to have girlfriends who fall for boys who treat them like absolute shit. Do not learn from them. If a boy calls you a bitch, spit in his face and leave.
5) Do it even if it’s the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do. Even if you’re still convinced that he was hiding galaxies beneath his skin. Because baby I promise you, he was the always dark night sky and you were always the full moon. No question bout’ it.
“Do not fall in love with people like me.
I will take you to
museums, and parks, and monuments,
and kiss you in every beautiful
place, so that you can
never go back to them
without tasting me
like blood in your mouth.
I will destroy you in the most
beautiful way possible.
And when I leave
you will finally understand,
why storms are named after people.”—(via bl-ossomed)
Some women want to be house wives and some women want to be Harvard professors and some women want to be porn stars and some women want to be nuns and some women want to be surgeons and there is nothing wrong with anyone’s profession I am sick of people being rude to women about their professions oh my god