my dance style ranges from white dad at a barbecue to stripper whose rent is due tomorrow
This is how to run a stick of Chapstick
down the black boxes on your scantron
so the grading machine skips the wrong
answers. This is how to honor roll. Hell,
this is how to National Honor Society.
This is being voted “Most Likely to Marry
for Money” or “Talks the Most, Says the
Least” for senior superlatives. This is
stepping around the kids having panic
attacks in the hallway. This is being the
kid having a panic attack in the hallway.
This is making the A with purple moons
stamped under both eyes. We had to try.
This is telling the ACT supervisor you have
ADHD to get extra time. Today, the average
high school student has the same anxiety
levels as the average 1950’s psychiatric
patient. We know the Pythagorean theorem
by heart, but short-circuit when asked
“How are you?” We don’t know. We don’t
know. That wasn’t on the study guide.
We usually know the answer, but rarely
DOES ANYONE ELSE GET LIKE REALLY HAPPY WHEN SOMEONE LEANS THEIR HEAD ON YOUR SHOULDER AND YOURE LIKE FUCK YEAH IVE BEEN CHOSEN AND YOU FEEL REALLY SPECIAL BUT THEN YOU HAVE TO STAY SO FUCKIBG STILL COS IF YOU MOVE THEYLL STOP LEANING ON YOU AND ITS LIKE NO COME BACK IM SORRRRYUWYY
I wish friends held hands more often, like the children I see on the streets sometimes. I’m not sure why we have to grow up and get embarrassed about it.