The Cliche

 

At twelve

My best friend told me she thinks she’s fat

And I realized I’m bigger than her

At twelve and a half

She shrinks in,

I grow out 

At twelve

My best friend sends nude photos

Exposing herself on a two inch screen

Just barely small enough to hide her insecurities 

At twelve and a half

I send nude photos

Exposing myself on a two inch screen

Just barely small enough to hide me 

At twelve and three quarters

My best friend starts kissing

Everywhere

Convinced it will promote her popularity

At twelve and three quarters

I start kissing 

Everywhere

Convinced it will promote my loyalty 

At thirteen 

My best friend drinks

At thirteen 

My best friend gets caught

By the police

At thirteen and a half

I no longer have that best friend

At fourteen

I’m lost without a leader

At fourteen and a half

I become a leader

At fourteen and three quarters

I fall back in line

At fifteen

I start drinking

At sixteen

I’m terrified 

To become — At seventeen

I am The Cliche. 

 

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