15 years old and she’s still babycakes
I have a secret/ j’ai une secrète
It’s not big/ ce n’est pas grande
But it is not small/ mais ce n’est pas petite
I miss the water/ je m’ennuie de l’eau
Rolling past the calm/ rouler passé le calme
And leading eight rowers to the end/ et menant huit rameurs à la fin
Parce que nous cherchons la fin.
La fin, la fin.
Instagram is like a spiteful 15year reunion where everyone has pictures of their brilliant kids and marvellous lives.
i dont know what to think anymore
wake up in bliss and make plans for the weekend
i was accepted
into the program of my
they accepted an
I often feel
From all of my friends.
It’s as if
I’m a step ahead of them
And I keep having to
Look back to
Make sure they’re
Still behind me
the unspoken words
on my tongue.
strangers to speech,
stuck as a thought
revolving, rotating, throbbing,
in my head
a student of mine wrote about achieving dreams.
an hour later, here i am
without a chance to achieve
what i have been fighting to seek.
things dont go the way you plan.
things never go the way you plan.
If you asked me if I’m happy
I’d say no.
There’s nothing making me sad
Nothing making me happy.
I haven’t been happy in a long time.
But, what is happiness?