October 27, 2015|
When I walked in the door I tried to tell my mom about how hard it was today. How every slight by the school seemed to be carried solely on my shoulders. How every inconsiderate driver was a symptom of something large and insidious. How seeing behaviors hurts me while other people seem to be okay.
I thought of staying late in class today because that girl might have a class at night. And I wanted to see her. Really I want her to see me. But I felt this heavy sense of aimlessness and melancholy. The people in my class drain me. The building drains me, all its sounds and lights.
I wanted to tell my mom a lot of things
But she wanted to instruct me. On what not to say.
On how she worked hard today to do something for me
I need permission to do everything
Meaning can't be made with permission
Because meaning is made inside
Nonetheless I feel I need permission for everything