high school; a series: senior year

AP Government

AP Microeconomics

AP Art

AP Statistics

Writing 101

and Honors Pre-Calculus

National Honor Society

Key Club

Art Club, President

Equine training

Scholarship seeking

SAT and ACT testing

Four AP tests, two finals

i’m not ready for the intensity of senior year. starting the year off with a broken heart and good intentions. and a boy who's not sure if he wants me but he's sure that if anyone else tried to get me he'd try his hardest to ruin whatever relationship i’d started. i told myself that i wouldn't have to rely on drugs this year but i haven't even started school yet and i’m already addicted to adderall and percocets, i steal my mother’s gabapentin and mix it with stolen whiskey. i was high for three days straight, i couldn’t feel my knees, but i wrote six scholarship essays and applied to two different colleges so it's going pretty good. i paint my nails bright yellow and i set my wallpaper to jellyfish, they both remind me of you in different way and makes the separation more bearable but i know you still stalk my twitter account, you still send her my tweets. she texts me sometimes and asks me to tone it down because she can't handle your worrying. you text me on days you can tell i drank too much, you tell me that you don't want me to live like this. i have a future that doesn't include popping pills and smoking cigarettes in abandoned lots. you sit there with your mod and act superior when we both know you're killing yourself the same way i am. i know you went to that party and i know you drove home after mixing too many xanax with your whiskey after yelling at me for doing the exact same thing. but you spent your senior year shoving adderall down your throat and making your brain bleed from the lack of sleep. why do you care if we're no longer a thing, what's the point in taking care of me. i won't be able to get through the school year without you. or something to help me along. you're running off to college, you'll be two hours away for one year and then i’m running 1,234 miles away to a new home, a new state. and i’m still unsure if we'll get back together but if we do i’m hoping we can survive the distance. i’m hoping we can survive the stress. i’ve had a plan for college since sixth grade but i’m going into my senior year and suddenly i don't know what i’m doing with my life or where i’m going but you told me not to worry because you believe in my ability to do good and i’m trying but i don't see myself the way you do. and i don't see myself walking across the same stage you did, wearing those ugly blue robes, and shaking the principal's hand. i don't see it but you do and i don't see myself doing any of the things you tell me i can, i see myself taking too much xanax at a party too strung out to care, and going to sleep that night on a cold metal slab in the hospital morgue.