By Ally England ’20
The whole concept was tragic.
Like I’m breathing underwater,
or something worse; breathing.
A kind of pain people feel,
but rarely talk about,
A discomfort in the mind,
a sense of sadness in the eyes.
You spend hours upon hours telling me my worth.
The standards I’m obligated to live up to.
Watching the lifeless leaves change colors,
while I’m on the inside, observing.
Nobody talks about the sadness that comes along.
The uncomplicated lifestyle I’m leaving behind,
and the distress of conjoinment.
I remember the pain of realizing the horror,
the horror of accepting change.
That old scooter leaned against the house.
Nothing left to it except the need to be loved,
a lifeless structure of who I was.
A piece of my heart dancing across the swings,
afraid of falling off.
Back then we were dedicated to those swings,
almost like a promise.
Now I see myself silently reminiscing.
Looking back on distant memories,
that now have no importance.
It is time to say goodbye to the imaginary friendships,
the pretend love stories.
There was nothing I couldn’t achieve,
the world was handing me favors beyond imaginable.
Now I put my essence into not failing,
because nothing is achievable without pain.