Seventeen

It's funny when you'd rather be eaten by a rampage of wild dogs than go to school. Seriously, I'm fed up. Life is this contest- and I've realized that no matter which way I would like to win- I'll end up in a pool of misery mixed with unsettled goals and stomach aches. I've been studying, studying toward this common goal. Of what?
I'm tired. I want to eat but I can't. I want to love but there is no one to give my love to. My want to die. But I'm too excited for the future. I'm just this iron lung of irony and I hate certain things about myself. WHY CAN'T I BE NATURALLY SMART? My brain fucking hurts. My mind is fed up. I don't have a car. I don't have anyone. I don't have anymore real priorities set in the present. All I have is my insanity. I think I should quit high school and become a writer. Atleast I'll feel liberated...rejuvenated. I can't find purposes anymore. I can't find thesis statements. I don't give a shit about the Dred Scott decision. I can fuck all my AP tests to hell. I really don't want to be one of those AP kids who find themselves committing suicide in the bath tub, but hell, why not? What is there really to live for anymore when you have no car, no chance of passing those AP tests, no chance in hell that you'll get out of here alive. All the people who lead free lives don't take on the responsibilites of the world. I need to stop trying to.
As I'm sitting here, contemplating whether I should publish this post now or just delete it all to hell, I realize how boring my opitiuary would be. I would fade faster than blue jeans...


When the spent sun throws up its rays on cloud
And goes down burning into the gulf below,
No voice in nature is heard to cry aloud
At what has happened. Birds, at least must know
It is the change to darkness in the sky.
Murmuring something quiet in her breast,
One bird begins to close a faded eye;
Or overtaken too far from his nest,
Hurrying low above the grove, some waif
Swoops just in time to his remembered tree.
At most he thinks or twitters softly, 'Safe!
Now let the night be dark for all of me.
Let the night be too dark for me to see
Into the future. Let what will be, be.'
- Acceptance by Robert Frost