On Being a Teenager.

It’s probably the most abuse anyone will ever suffer.
We fall from being pushed,
but also from throwing ourselves off the bridge, even though we aren't following anyone.
Fears aside,
we wallow
and cry
and laugh
and smirk
and get jealous
and suffocate ourselves.
Faces in pillows,
from the nights we spent alone,
and the nights we spent together
hand holding
hugging
humorous mistakes that we try to laugh off.
We feel so godd*** alone in this world,
“You’re never alone,” they say.
They made it through, which is why they don’t remember it.
Admitting weakness was never a human’s strength, but maybe it ought to be.
Being a teenager takes enormous amounts of strength.
More than can ever be lifted at a gym.
More than can be found in the toughest animal,
the strongest rope.
The strings that bind us together fray, ever so slightly.
Then one day we pull too hard and they break.
We can breathe again.
We can see.
We can walk, and run and shout and smile.
We can survive.