Self- Portrait at 16

When I was younger it was the dinosaur chicken nuggets, obviously from a time no longer.


Those creatures screamed in my mouth as I ate, hinting at a world no longer the dinosaur age, but a modern time of lies.
In my childhood, best friends meant play dates, not knowing Christina would be a lifelong friend to hold my secrets.
Somewhere the world flipped to annoyance, away from the carefree. Now everyone tries too hard, and I’m left at the age of sixteen.
Jersey: Overly tanned orange girls and too much attitude to handle. California, so far away, seems better to me- maybe it’s the fresh air I need.
In high school I never understood popularity, but then it clicked. It wasn’t that people liked a girl; it was that she was just a b****.
Death hasn’t been understandable to me either. People seem to disappear. Michael Jackson even left, leaving the pop world in despair.
The world only lives at night. No one functions perfectly in the morning; or maybe I’m just a night person since I was born in the late afternoon.
Perhaps one part of childhood does come back to play: Life’s a game of Monopoly, decisions made in such childish ways. I’m left at the beginning of the board to play the undefeated game.
Self-portrait at 16.





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