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poem i wrote because im scared to move out

I Don't Think I Want to Do This (a Rambling)

I don't think I really want to do this. 
Not out of a conscious, maybe sometimes labelled "stubborn" choice, but 
Mainly just because I don't really think I can.

I don't have the capacity to lift myself up this time. 
Up and moving,
Up and out,
Pick everything up and go -
This time even more hasty and complicated than the last.

When did this happen last time?
When was only yesterday again? 
Yesterday I was crying,
Crying, wishing it wasn’t today
Because everything feels like I should still be 14 in my bed in my room -  
Not this bed, but this room with that bed, but instead it's the one from before.
Or probably before that one.  

It's only because when I was 14, I felt like 17, but with time.
Choices could be thought about, sat on, dragged on for hours and hours without hesitation. 
Hours like days, thoughts without consequences. 

Now those moments of calm are few and far.
They’re moments I sit in, watching seconds creep by, dreading each time I blink
 for fear of a second escaping my sore eyes. 
These are the hours that will inevitably turn into nothing - 
3 days, maybe 2 
And I don't think I can simply gather myself in time. 

I'm too young for 17,
But too old to hold on. 
My short yet achingly exhausted life told me the hopeful ensuing 
mental maturity would be worth the work and effort.  
But a small fraction of my own 17 feels divided into 
2 or 3 pieces a lot smaller than they should be. 

I guess now I'll drown out the panic-stricken adolescent cries
until they dull into whispers -
The kinds of whispers that grown-ups exchange between door frames. 
Those that stop the second I peer into the room or start to concentrate too hard. 
I suppose though, that is the kind of whispering I am destined to. 
No more whispering under the covers, unless of course, those whispers are telling me to get off my phone, 

get outside 
Or go to sleep. 
How can I sleep though?
When the only thought that occupies my brain 
Is the knowledge that I cannot, yet I must (for some reason that I cannot gather)
Do all these frivolous yet daunting things that I simply don't think I want to, let alone can, do.

thanks :)   




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Reply by Squibles

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That was a great poem! I really related to the part about feeling 17 when you’re 14 and only 14 when you’re 17 if that makes sense. It feels like we’re all in a hurry to grow up but all of us wish we were kids again once we actually grow up.


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So lovely.  I hope you get through it easy my man. ✨ 


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