Where do I go, when I've lost all hope?
Who do I talk to, when I don't know what to do?
Adulthood means doing things on your own, but you're never prepared to truly be all alone.
If my stove isn't working, who do I call?
If I missed a deadline, how do I stall?
If something tragic happens and I don't know who to talk to, who do I phone if I can't phone you?
Should I go to the E.R. for this cut, bump or lump? Or will it be fine if I leave it for a month?
Do you dump water or flour on electrical fires, or am I thinking of ones started with grease in things like deep fryers?
If my toilet is running, and I can't make it stop, how do I fix it? Or can I just not?
If I did really well on one of my tests or in sports. Who am I supposed to tell? It's just me and my floor boards.
What if I have a nightmare while I'm the only one home, how can I sleep when I'm all scared and alone?
I have no answers, and I want to ask you. But reaching for help isn't something individuals do. Adults are competent, self assured and smart. I feel like I'm lying, despite the date on my social security card. How can I be an adult? It's not possible, can't be real. My body is eighteen years of age, but childlike is how I feel.
YOU ARE READING
Evolution Of Everything
PoetryA collection of poems, spoken word, and verbal processing. It's mostly here as a reminder for me of where I was and where I am, so that I never forget. Some of them are silly and fun, but most of them are deeply personal accounts of some of my harde...
