This is not a sonnet.
(The first creative thing I’ve written in a while. It continues the theme of how practically everything creative that I write contains some sense of honest insanity…)
what is it that makes a perfectly
imperfect yet obsessively unrealisticly over
achieving young girl student person being decide
not to do so anymore? nothing is wrong at least
it shouldnt be and yet here we are with failing
grades and falling emotions and please dont pay
attention because it wont help my dears. i mean
to tell you that i dont know anything sometimes
actually most times and maybe im going through
a midlife crisis because that would make more sense
and maybe im quietly desperate even though i thought
i was better than that. i wish that i had more people that
i could embrace contentedly forever but the hugs always
end.
