"
I was sixteen, laying on my bedroom floor, choking on your
goodbye and cigarette smoke with the 98 degree weather burning
tears into my cheeks, screaming for my mother because I figured
this was it, I was going to die without you because if I
couldn’t wake up and see you sleepily mumbling my name into my
hair I didn’t want to wake up at all.
I was seventeen, shaky breath, shaky knees, tired lungs and wet
hair but I wasn’t drowning like last summer ”
— I thought I couldn’t live without you but you were nothing
more than a good morning text and someone to pass out next
to
"It’s
strange how your childhood sort of feels like forever.
Then suddenly you’re sixteen and the world becomes
an hourglass and you’re watching the sand pile up
at the wrong end. And you’re thinking of how when
you were just a kid, your heartbeat was like a kick drum
at a rock show, and now it’s just a time bomb
ticking out. And it’s sad. And you want to forget
about dying. But mostly you just want to forget about
saying goodbye."
My name is Cali. I am sixteen years old. I have found out that I
am graduating at the end of this year as a junior. I’ve
already applied to college, and I’m going in the fall or
spring.