I can’t experience life. My grandma passed away
a year ago and although I cried, in the back of my
head I couldn’t stop thinking about how these
emotions I was experiencing would make a good
poem one day. My boyfriend was having a very
serious conversation and I wasn’t paying attention
because I liked him, but rather because I wanted
to remember as much as possible for later when
I put it down on paper. My mom yelled at me for
not doing what she never told me she wanted me
to do and I tracked her phrasing for a mini essay.
It was raining one day so I went outside and stood
under the clouds. I love the rain and I smiled but
all I was thinking was about how beautiful my
feelings would be in a well thought out verse.
I don’t know why I do this. I can’t stop it. I always
find myself looking for the stories so much in my
life that I can hardly experience it myself.