My Paranoia has Stayed

Dec 24, 2007 - 14:40 PM PST

At sixteen, if my views and thoughts
could be summed up in a black
and white photograph, it would
consist of long rows of stairs
going in every
direction.
thousands of sets, as some ventured
into the basics of a troubled, insecure mind;
drugs, sex, peer-pressure-but for
acceptance sake. Then there was the opposite sex and
the grooming
for an ungrateful girl, who only wanted to
date for the gossip afterwards, would
make my palms sweat while I grappled
against the thought. I just won't hold
hands with her, I said to myself over and
over in the back seat of my parents
rusty, brown jeep.

I have unwittingly carried my paranoia
into adulthood


After my experience of
trying to fit in with
peer-pressure itself,
with the bong hits,
Jim Bean shots, and
going out to start
trouble while under the
influence, I started
changing.

I could feel my photograph turning
into sand, but slowly, as the long rows
began disintegrating into nothing-
nothing being the cornerstone of
my growth, since sand doesn't
grow after it falls, explains
the new mold of intelligence
without the
wisdom.


Spending most days in a
bedroom
doesn't provide much
wisdom, but with health
intact, and a new foundation
of intelligence isn't a bad
break.