The Expectations

October 7, 2009
My eyes are tired
My eyes are dry
My eyes have been open for a long, long time.
My fingers feverishly flip pages and take notes
It’s pretty dark and I’m alone
I shouldn’t have written my book so full
And failure is only mine to take
The expectations are weighing me down.
Parental pressure doesn’t mean anything anymore—it’s just expected
All the pressure comes from deep within
And if I crack…
I don’t even want to think about it
I’d rather pretend I’m a teen
Someone who can actually enjoy what they have
Because all I have is no time.

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