I sat at my computer, staring
At the presentation on the screen
White light radiating off of my face.
"Where do you see yourself
On 20 February, 2024?"
That voice asks.
Everyone was typing endlessly,
But I, on the other hand,
Was oh-so lost.
My future?
I don't want to be a mother;
I can't see myself in that position.
Maybe college?
I don't have a passion yet,
But that degree determines my worth.
"Where will future you end up?"
My future? This stupid game of life?
How lost can I be?
How can I possibly think of the future
When simply surviving the week
Is this difficult for me?
YOU ARE READING
Pleasure or Pain? (Poetry)
PoetryI call this my book of chaos; my sanctuary. When the turmoil inside of me resurfaces, when I've surpassed my tipping point, putting my jumbled thoughts and conflictions into words gives back the control I initially lost.
