living is difficult and i need a piss
i'm bloated and baggy and boxed and my head hurts a bit too
ive spent the day sad
and thinking about death
and i cried a bit too,
because i won't be the first to go
and i cried in my dads jumper
and i looked in the mirror
i saw his hair and my mums nose and my dads acne and his eyes and her round face and i saw me
and one day i'll be a relic of them
and the only thing besides my siblings left of them
my parents are going to die and my sociology was due
it was 500 words and it was shit but i was crying so what could i do
and then a comedy series hit too close to home
with not belonging and feeling dumb and looking like a child in the eyes of your friend who knows you could do better and knows that you have, but peers at you with disappointed eyes, like they know you're pretending and that you're not for them anymore. the feeling of knowing it's over and clinging anyway, of looking at people growing and you're trying but you're wrong—you're awkward and clumsy and cringey and loud and you're too quiet, too small, too baggy and boxy and all of it

i got ready for dinner

my jaw was too soft and i hate how i look from the side, my stomach isn't flat and i hoped the playsuit covered it
but mum said i looked nice and that my hair was right, and i like my sleeves so that's alright
and we linked arms like everything was okay because it was, and my head was 50 years forward, that's all

waiting is fun when you're in the mood
and there's a certain love in blurry pictures, like you were too in the moment to catch it in your palms,
and you were too enamoured with the night and the trees in the park to calm your shaky hands, jolting with laughter,
and maybe your camera is too shit and it won't focus, especially with flash on, but who cares when your pictures look like love in a snapshot—
it's nice being silly and artsy and pretentious on a nighttime, because you're not trying to look pretty for strangers and you're being tender and kind and patient and laughing a lot

i guess worrying about the future is inevitable, foresight isn't reliable
and regretting the past is so constant, in the cruelty of hindsight
so maybe trying to just see the present for what it is, sights, minds, lives, loved and all—living is difficult, let's embrace the blurry pictures.