Dear Diary

Timing is something that is learned

Most of the time it is very harshly earned

I guess seventeen years is not enough

Even though you've been through a lot of stuff

Maybe you should have been more persistent a couple of years ago

But you didn't know what life would bestow

Now you're thinking too much about everything

And it hurts so much I feel like puking

The worst part it the uncertainty 

And you feel that life is purposely

Throwing curveball over curveball 

And I hope that this is just a close call

It was thirty minutes of heaven but might be a lifetime of hell

But I wasn't thinking, I was under the spell

The thing is that I'm not really worried if she is

For better or worse it's like she says

It's something that can be easily but painfully undone

I'm ultimately worried about failing someone

Because for some reason now I'm having second thoughts

That would hurt both of us like gunshots

I feel like I'm too close to love her just like that song

And honestly, I don't think that it's wrong

It's been something that's been two years in the making

And I'm honestly not sure if it's a risk worth taking

But there is something special when we talk and smile at each other

Something that's been missing lately with the other

No, I haven't broken a commandment because I care too much

And I feel like at times it's a crutch

On top of all that (I'm surprised you're still reading)

There are two more things that are compiling

At school, I'm the Flash and Superman too

The person who can do anything they set their mind to

But I'm getting older and my mind is more fragile

And my legs are becoming a lot less agile

Still, I have a reputation to uphold in both areas

Something that I'll do as if I'm delirious

Everyone expects so much and honestly 

And I worry too much and it bothers me

Because most cannot take my place

So, of course, I have to take that space

And then there's this whole thing regarding the future

Something that's supposed to be done over a computer

How am I supposed to know where to go

Even Dr. Seuss doesn't really know 

Going far seems ideal

but the idea of leaving what I know makes me squeal

I'm only seventeen, eighteen after eighteen days after the ides of March

I feel so stiff like a piece of starch

Writing it down makes it feel like a truck

and I'm pinned against a wall, stuck

Luckily I can breath for air 

After I race, gasping in despair

Feeling myself going slower but with no control

Holding myself up with a pole

Maybe that's all I really need

But then people depend on me like a trusty steed

It's getting late and I have to race twice and be a king at a dance

Yet I feel like I'm stuck in a daze, in a trance

So ultimately I'm going to take an aggressive stance

And fight until I can solve all my problems, and take that chance