Today, I heard the phrase "it looks good on collage applications" 11 times.

Teachers tell me they are preparing me for "real life"

As if the first 18 years was a free trail.

Getting an education turned out to be a competition I never agreed to enter.

I used to think in week days and now I think in test dates.

Nothing is heavier than this backpack except maybe my eyelids.

I'm losing sleep, losing weight, losing my mind.

I'm so lost.

Even as I write this poem I know nothing I have to say matters unless it's typed in Times New Roman 12pt font.

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