there once was

today i turn seventeen, & the ghost sleeping under my skin is more alive than ever. it is an ocean knocking from the back of my eyes, threatening to spill over at unprecedented intervals. it is ambivalence grazing through the spaces in the hall of my empty chest. it is vagueness & uncertainty; it is all that i could ever love & hate all at once; it is invigorating & infuriating; it is the lack, the absence & the abundance of words; it is. God i hope you know my heart can only take so much of this disappointment anger sadness regret relent disappointment anger sadness regret relent disappointment anger sadness regret rele—

this won't matter anymore when i turn eighteen, or would it?

i will be happy, i will enjoy my day

also thank you all who was part of the last three-five months of my sixteenth. however painful; however joyful, those were probably the months of my life i hold dearest in my arms & would cradle to sleep