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.