selling my soul

 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 good enough for those admission gods

claiming power over those 17 year olds - "it's me you must please, for a future worth a penny"

while i stand, my knees knocking with fear, 

a resume held out from my shaking hands

make no mistake, this was a war. 

and i am just a child, trying to shield herself from the falling rubble and failing miserably.

'i would stand square

in front of any bear

if only you told me

you'll get your degree'

am i any less if those accepting me accept the rest 80 too?

am i any less if the ivy's reject me?

am i any less than them?

those breaking the barrier, those living their life, those-

my idols, not accomplished writers or actors or athletes

my idols - the ivy picks. 

plucked among a sea of pretty flowers, condemning the rest - setting a new standard

those who travelled through the dark tunnels and came out fairly fine

who pushed through the goddamn fire

who forewent the laughs for the notebooks. 

is it so wrong of me to want

the fruit without ever giving thought to water the tree?

I FEEL I AM SELLING MY SOUL 

FOR SOMETHING THAT MAY NOT EVEN MATTER 7 YEARS LATER. 

i am a warrior

a veteran,  of the great horrid wars that come with teenagerhood

i am crippled with the ptsd of my own resume -

a comic thought but a foreboding warning nonetheless

and if you read this and weep -

if your tears glisten on your cheeks 

i hope this verse envelops you and wipes them off

because i know how you feel. 

i know how you gave it your all. 

you may rest easy, for someone knows,

i know. and now, so do you. 

and if i could escape, i would, but simply dreaming of finding that glitch in the matrix, the one that saves my life,

will do nothing but falsify the hope in my heart 

that one day 

ill wake up from this terrible nightmare and breathe a sigh of relief. 

and no matter how much i yell, and scream and writhe in pain - 

maybe if i could incorporate it in my commonapp essay, it would all be of some use.