Poetry I Wrote in High School

It’s almost midnight, Ben and I are leaving for vacation on Thursday morning, so I’ve been running around insisting that we do all the cleaning and organizing that we’ve been avoiding since he started working on this project he’s been on since March.

On the one hand it’s pretty ridiculous, I’m worried our cat sitter will come in the apartment and realize we’re exactly what we are: filthy people. On the other hand, there’s a level of general cleanliness that no person should be subjected to anything less than, and I think that’s about 3 hours of work away from where we currently are.

As an example of our situation, I literally just reached down into a small pile of clutter next to my computer and pulled out a poetry journal covering the years 2001 to 2005. It wasn’t what I was looking for, but it’ll have to do because I need content and this is about it as far as anything original goes.

---

Me: Oh these are terrible.
Ben: What are they?
Me: Poems from freshman sophomore year of high school.
Ben: Oh God, why would you read that?
Me: I need content!

Ben said that if I was going to write down our conversations, I should include this IM gem from earlier in the day. For background, I’m talking about how my sour mood this morning might be traced to the fact that I’ve been tending to this tomato plant for months now, it’s the first vegetable I’ve ever successfully grown as an adult. It finally had a ripe tomato that I picked and ate today, and the first tomato of the ever tasted pithy and it made me extremely depressed.

Marina: Or the fact that the 1st tomato tasted like ass
Well, even assey a home grown tomato tastes better than a store tomato

Ben: that is sad.
i am discovering that i didn’t do as good a job brushing my teeth last night as i would have liked

Marina: Infinite saddness

---

All of these are just so painfully terrible I think it would be considered assault to reprint any one of them in their entirety, so here are a couple of choice lines from my favorites.

Wonder what it’s like after
When you’re not my friend and I won’t see you
And you won’t like mee [sic]

I could have been a teenage Gotya

Take your stupid vicodin
Be a hypocrite
Scream at me and take my Pez
And make me feel like shit

I have noooo idea who that might be about. I just like the idea of 15 year old me getting in a fight with my drug addict mother over Pez (of all things!) and stomping off to go write in my poetry journal. That’ll show her!

Stories are riches when you think like I do

Take note kids. I just pulled a 7 year old journal out of a pile of trash and I’m using it as content for a blog only 40 people read. This is what that kind of thinking gets you. This is the kind of future you’ll be having when you devalue actual riches.

I’m gonna own nice cars someday
But you’ll never see in em

Behold the glory of my 2009 Honda Fit Sport! Technically, I don’t actually own this car. I still owe $5,000. Because adulthood hooray.

I will come out on top
I will live through
The tears you’ve drawn

To kick you in the head
Someday and laugh

I’m noticing a theme: Success as hate-motivated revenge. Hatecess.

Sex with you could be great
If you weren’t so ugly
And passive

Yeah, that’s what it says. I don’t even know.

Someday all the cute boys will be younger than us

I’m a fucking psychic.

Seriously, Tyler Posey how were you born in 1991? Also, how to you look so uncannily like my friend Paul from high school? These things make it difficult for me to properly lust after you. So work on that.

---

I’m only halfway through the book, but it’s almost 1 am, and tomorrow is the day I have to take care of all the last minute shit I haven’t done yet (like everything.) So I need my beauty sleep, such as it is. I hope you enjoyed my hot teenage mess. What do you say, do you want to see the 2nd half? I’ll probably do it anyway, but it’s nice to know I have your consent.