your namethree months from now, i'll look back on this and think
"i can't believe i ever wrote your name on my desk."
but until then, i'll keep scratching it in,
over and over,
until it makes a dent,
in my heart.
i don't carePeople ask me that question all the time.
It's only five words,
but I want to reply with thousands.
Instead of telling them the truth?
"I don't know."
That's what I tell them all.
Every, single last one of them thinks that I don't know why I decided to make such bad life choices.
Every one of them thinks I'm some idiot, that I don't know what I'm doing to myself or where this is going to go.
I hate them for that.
I know exactly what I'm doing.
I know I'm probably going to die in my thirties.
I know exactly what's going to happen.
But that's just the thing, you see...
I don't care anymore.
It all started with the lectures.
"Don't do drugs."
"Don't get pregnant."
"Don't drink and drive."
"On second thought, don't drink at all."
I had heard them all,
more times in a month than anyone should have to hear in a lifetime.
But it wasn't just the bad things they ordered me to follow their rules on.
"Go to college."
"Do your homework."
"Accept Him into your heart and you'll go to Heaven."