06 February 2015 Untitled

I never used to understand

the stories my mom told.

Before I got to college I imagined

they would happen to me if I was patient

but all I remember thinking last year was

when do I get to laugh and get drunk

and have someone launch me onto my bed

Why does my roommate have to sit inside

never understanding why I so desperately

need to get out

She’s gone, now. Transferred. Back to the

mystery that is Massachusetts.

And she will not invite me back

All I have to rely on are

the stories from last year

the ones I pushed away at the time

but can do nothing but relish in now

I’ve never been more alone

even what was always so familiar

has pulled away

I don’t know if its been enough time

but I think I have shed enough skin cells

that I can officially call myself a new person

Most importantly I’ve been touched

touched in the way people always want

the way I never imagined but now understand

and yet I find myself yearning,

desperately thirsty for the way only I used to know myself

I always vowed never to be

jealous of my past

I don’t necessarily want to go back

but I am certainly jealous of

the person I was before

I had gained what I lacked and before

I had lost all that I knew.