you never plan to live your life broken and torn, it just happens,
nothing changes except everything.
and, people are telling you’re not what they expected when they see you after ten years.
you wonder if you should take that offensively, but you just smile and brush it off.
the house you live in has new creaks in the wooden floors, and the windows don’t open as easily. the people around you are more prone to yell, because you’re older.
and, you’re yelling back.
fighting in the dining room; clenching your fists and counting the seconds, one, two, three…
your father, the one who took you for go-cart rides, and bought you a 100-pack of waffles for your birthday, is asking what you were thinking…
your mother, the one who took you to the library and let you have how-ever-many books you wanted, is shaking her head in disapproval.
you drift apart and there’s nothing to do about it, because you aren’t little anymore. you feel a simple bond, and you try to reach out to save what you had…but it’s not the same.
so, you pack your things. you kiss their cheeks, and say you love them. because, you do, but something hasn’t been right with you for a while.
and, then you’re gone. eighteen years. that’s what they gave you, and you repay them with, goodbyes, frustrations, worries, and hurt.
you wipe the tears as the drip down your face. you let the emotion seep onto the concrete, and eventually it will evaporate into the stars.