Dear Society

Dear society,

I remember you often warned me

“Don’t grow up to fast” you’d say

“You’ll have to get a job,

There’ll be a million bills to pay”

So I was very careful

And tried to remain small

But here I am in junior year

With little room to fall

Or maybe I should say instead

There’s little room to fail

As my whole entire future

Revolves around a grading scale

I don’t know what I want to be

When I inevitably turn eighteen

But the square root of i is one

(Whatever the hell that means)

I guess you could say I’m smart

And I’ve almost made it through

But I don’t know where I’m going

So what good does that do?