a mess of unfinished thoughts

my- no, our girlhood. intriguing, complex but simultaneously simple. we were girls together, i say and there is nothing more soul-touchingly intimate nothing more revealing, more vulnerable than us in our girlhood. those facetious giggles, an essence of our being lipgloss smiles and chipped nails - an attempt at our armour, a pieced fragment because ive never felt braver than in pink sparkles. oh back when rejecting pink, "im tougher, im different" i used to say, a secret smile at being better at _______ ??? (what am i better at?) just better, i thought. but pink embraced me, warm-welcomed me. so forgive my exuberance, my laughter echoing through our shared spaces,  forgive the smudged makeup, the chaos of annotated books, the ribbons and jewels adorning my world, forgive me if my girlhood is easier to swallow with a little fairy dust..

can i pick and choose the parts of adulthood  those novel moments of ammeration; someone tell me what an adult is supposed to be. is it a state of mind? the second i turned 18, struck by gravity because i must now behave as something i have never been. but i guess that was me at 17, 16, 15 too. things i felt at 13, that i never felt before. this seems graver, though - almost as if this could shape all my other ages. a russian nesting doll of thoughts and ideas and idiosyncrasies each encasing - protecting - the one before. all the girls ive ever been, all crouched: one behind another, making me who i am. i guess, to be an adult, you must just be 18 (the law catches you). because i feel no different after the clock hit 00:00 and all my friends came bursting through that door. maybe to be an adult is just to call yourself one, and pretend you know,,, but really just feel 17 inside all along. i wish to be those women who at 30 and 40 and 50, are able to be  are able to embody 30....

 ive always wondered why a prefer a good ending, happy with family smiles and giggles, clinked glasses and shoes strewn together barefoot on a couch, curled up, relaxed at peace if anything, i show to me and the people around me that i would much prefer the heartbreak and anguish exploring the tears and sobs of the main character but last week, watching a show i realise you and i, we, us put ourselves in the shoes of the protagonist going through what they go through and no matter how i am pulled through waves of sadness and the melancholy of blue i will always swim towards the  sandy gold shores of hope. 

 they say its emotion that makes the memory stick a small still in your movie called life one that you see in bizarre clarity - a perfectly still, suspended moment.  some of you were flashbulbs some simply didn't stay lit - but im not complaining 12 whole years in the making and it ends in 2 months.  bittersweet? the nostalgia makes it seem so. and as i look over the vast sea the great tsunami of my moments, gone past lighthouses pop up - a bright light of beckoning a gentle pull, not unlike the squeeze of a hand against mine i allow myself to  be be dragged, waves lapping against the ship a smile i didn't know existed, lingering on my face for despite all my trials and tribulations for when i mistook the joyful welcoming as a raging wrath of record i apologise. alone on my bed, typing away to fulfill those requirements requirements keeping my future secure in healthy, happy, good hands as they say my final bulb that i look out for: the coming moment grounds me. a c...

 how do you measure love? is it the acts? what i can do for you and what you do for me? getting you a chocolate, just to see you smile. "we already ordered the fries for you" and my heart was warmer than a furnace is it how much the things around me remind me of you? a gallery of you memes and reels, one after the other flooding your life  with things like you does it make you feel nice to feel the importance does it feel nice to lead the scoreboard? is it the time? does childhood memories and nostalgia declare you my most loveliest? do the old videos and photos, us together BFFFL's for life we grew up together, tooth gaps and braids we intertwined our hands forever. is my worth to you bound by the small possessions of mine, that you share? a necklace here, a ring there. my lipbalm knows more smiles than i ever could. does my ability  to let you copy off my work make you want to keep me by your side? how do choose your unit of love? how did i get lucky enough to receive i...

 a year and 4 months ago, this student was told "oh just you wait, 2 years of work and you're done" "most crucial years of your life, you know" "just study for this exam its important" "you can do this, its just a little bit more" "start taking things seriously now maanya" "tests decide your future, you know" "a year later, it'll just be wake up, edit essays, sleep, repeat" i think i've officially grown up.  i think the little prince was right - i think my blackout poetry from 4 years ago was right (i was scared of adulting and I WAS RIGHT ) i think each essay sucks a little of my soul out  i think i sell that little chunk of my soul to each university, "please accept me im begging" scraps of hope line my shelf like trophies "did you know her daughter got into yale, even without having good grades" and there it is, a light at the end of the tunnel, that maybe, just maybe, i might be go...