Illusive Heaven

Apparently I am an adult.
I pay my rent on time and I make my bed everyday.
I am 19 years old but the weight on my shoulders feels like I’m 45,
divorced, 2 kids, and probably wondering which turn was the wrong one.
I allow myself 30 minutes between snoozing my alarms,
but sometimes pressing snooze doesn’t allow me to remember my dreams.
How can I remember my dreams when I stopped sleeping when I was 8?
I should have known I’d lose my childhood the moment
I demanded it was time I started to make my own lunch for school
or when I realized I was better off figuring life out for myself,
instead of running to mommy, asking her to braid my hair.
My maturity haunts me like Casper the friendly ghost
still young but already dead, personable but translucent.
People somewhere can almost smell the aroma of “she’s got her shit together”
because one after another they’ve come running to me for help
but in their marathon of
“I know I ask you to remind me all the time, but can you remind me to pay the rent again this month?” or “I know you’re sick, but can you please come over anyways?”
I’ve let myself be trampled down to pieces of asphalt
where even the endorphins can’t keep me high in the sky
I’m falling down from a illusive heaven
hitting almost every branch on the way down
Maybe I’d feel a little cozier in the hell of lazy and irresponsible
but my soul feels awkward being buddy-buddys
with the company of satanic procrastination.
I am your shoulder cry on, but I’m not Bill Withers
I’m not asking you to lean on me when you’re not strong.
Yes, I need to start saying a whole lot of more of “No”
but if I start saying no when you ask
you’re going to stop asking
and then I’ll be 45
divorced, 2 kids, and wondering which turn was the wrong one.
But, apparently, I’m an adult.
So I should be fine, right?

Published byAmanda

Journey of a millennial kombuchaholic, tea fanatic, future holistic dietician, college student who wants to live a zero-waste life filled with love, laughter, and nature

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