It didn’t work out, obviously.
I’ve never been so uncomfortable in my life. I’ve never felt so old. I lasted two days. I have a ton of feelings about it all. I wish I didn’t. My brain is very cluttered.
I just see this kid in my mind. They were interviewing him too. He had to be just out of high school. I’m 37…working with highschoolers. It was never going to work. I’m not sure why I thought it would. He had these oversized jeans with holes in them. And what looked like a vintage women’s blouse. Now I know what I sound like, judging the clothing of the young, but come on. So I’m back. Back behind my laptop where I belong. I guess growing older behind a laptop is better than doing menial tasks around people I’m like almost twenty years older than.
Old, what is that anyway? Oh, it’s just a number. I’m mean kind of fuck you if you really believe that. I should stick with my peers. Piers I’m ready to jump off that is. I hate feeling old and out of place. I’m Captain Hook now instead of a lost boy. I kind of was always planning on being a lost boy. Then I woke up one day and wasn’t.
I gave my mom a copy of one of the anthologies I’m in this year for her birthday. My grandma read my poem with a shocked look on her face. I think it says the words Fuck and Shit in it. I guess writing isn’t supposed to say Fuck and Shit.
Don’t worry about me. I’ll snap out of it.
