WARNING: this poem was made on a day in which I just wanted to rant about life, so there is A LOT of language in this one. If you don't like language, move on to the next one. Also, don't worry. I changed all the names in here, so none of the names are the same as those who I actually am writing about.
Fuck my life. Fuck my brain, my personality, my Spotify playlist. Fuck me.We were driving back from Auburn, finally just the two of us. (Side note, fuck Randall for always being around.) We were in my car. I was probably listening to BTS, GOT7, Lindsey Stirling, or Twenty-One Pilots. At least he never criticized my music taste. (Second side note, fuck my sister for always criticizing my music taste.) We pull up to his apartment complex, and I park my car. Don't ask me what song was playing, because I don't remember. All I remember is stuttering through my anxiety, asking if he wanted to someday get a bite to eat. He looks to me and proceeds to tell me "I'm aromantic." Now, it wasn't that blunt, but that was the gist of it. Fuck me. Fuck Randall for never leaving my side, like a lost puppy. Fuck Gerald for being an annoying, overly-optimistic nuisance. Nate wasn't there, but fuck him for being an asshole and a prick. Fuck everyone but him (because he's really a nice guy and had a right to turn me down) and my gay wing-man. Fuck Lucas, Seth, Samuel, Sawyer, and whoever else I'm forgetting. Fuck my life.
YOU ARE READING
Creative Writing
ŞiirThis semester, I'm in a Creative Writing course, and I figured I'd publish some of the things I've written in it thus far. Some of them have very specific formats that are going to be tricky to write on a laptop, but I'm going to do my best.
