Britney

Ends that I want:

• High school (now, for the break, so I can leave the city, which I’ve grown to hate).
• High school (later, when I make the final break and mourn my adolescence—but not how it was spent, rather I’ll lament what was not and maybe could not have been).
• My flailing.
• The blockage of all the writing I vowed to spill from my open cuts.
• My quicksand escape into memory.
• The inability to fit cleanly into my ideal perception of “good” and of “worthy”; the inability to leave my thinking once I recognize its irrationality; the floating.
• This stupid class.
• This stupid strife. ♦