(quarter life crisis)

i'm not quite sure what i'm doing here but i guess that is the human condition.

 my life as a pre-twentysomething is basically just an ongoing existential crisis. i'll be nineteen in march//the first week of march//i won't even have time to catch my breath from february before i'm another year older.


it feels like my life is made up of deadlines. i've always been too hard on myself. i wanted to be known by now//i wanted to be published by now//i wanted to be happy by now. but i still have trouble talking on the phone and writing poems that don't rhyme.  i still have trouble getting out of the bed in the morning.


i've always been one for an irish exit, that is leaving without the burden of saying goodbye--to anyone. 

but as easy as it is for me to slip away from a party,
it's harder to turn my back on my dreams.