I want to let go
Im crusin tumblr reading someones awesome poem about getting high and fucking in dirty laundry and I absolutely love it because it describes everything im seeking in life right not. Which may see weird, and like my goals are going south but theres more to it than that.
See, I have always been a perfectionist. I follow every rule all my life I’ve been the good girl. High goals, big dreams, work hard. School, family, expectations. Do everything im supposed to, nothing im not. The right guy, the right friends, the right life.
And I lack happiness most of the time because I’m always reaching for the next thing. I remember spending my eight grade summer, the last summer I ever had, studying algebra so I could be in a more advanced class in high school. After that, every summer was spent in summer school so I could take extra science classes during the school year. High school was not spent dating or in clubs. It was spent getting ready for college. College was spent studying while other people partied, to prepare for gosh knows what. My whole life has been in anticipation for the next phase of life. Never living now, living for tomorrow. Half of it has gone by and im still saving for the house and the dream marriage and maybe the kids ill have one day. Paying bills, saving money. For what? This is who I am. This sad girl who never enjoys life because she never lives it.
I just want to let go so badly. I just want to say fuck it to the good girl rep and the morales, and impressing my mother. Fuck it to what people think about me and always being so prepared. I’ve always looked around at everyone having fun and told myself “don’t worry. Your time will come. When your 60 and have a healthy retirement plan they’ll be struggling and you’ll get to have fun.” Life is short, and I’m getting very tired of living this way.
I just want to live. So when I read this poem, that I did not write at all, I was envious. Here, In this dark little room someone created, is everything I want in life at this exact moment. And as messed up as that is, maybe its possible to see just a little of why that may be.
Again, I didn’t write this. The link to the author is on the bottom. I am very grateful to her for writing it because it is helping me learn more about myself. This is a world i’ve never been a part of so I wouldn’t be able to express it like she does.
This is not a poem.
I want to get high and
Fuck you underneath the stars
Not the real ones, in the sky, I
Don’t want Orion and Cornucopia
To witness this no I just want to
Throw you down on my single bed
Under cheap, glow in the dark constellations
I want to smoke in bed while listening to Nina Simone
And disregarding her advice
I want you to fuck me amongst dirty laundry
And blunt wrappers, knocking empty
Beer bottles filled with cigarette butts
Off of bedside tables
I want to run my hands through
Your unwashed hair and let you
Suck red wine stains from my lips
I want to get drunk in a dark room and
Fight about nothing until we come down
In a spiralling mess in each other’s arms and
Fuck until we are laughing and crying and
The days are passing and no one knows
What to do about us because we are lost
In this room with the dirty laundry and the
Drugs and the cheap plastic stars which
Seem to judge us from above
I want you to tie me to the bed and
Tell me I can never leave because I
Am yours and all we need is each other
And these drugs and make me forget that
There was ever anything else but this
I want to get high and fuck you
This is not a poem.