Author: InkandIntrospection PM
Little Miss Ivy League School Prospective Freshman is going to be someone.Rated: Fiction T - English - Poetry - Words: 418 - Favs: 1 - Published: 11-10-07 - Status: Complete - id: 2436773
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Little Miss Ivy League School Prospective Freshman is going to be someone.
So sayeth the array of ex-educators at the long promenade of parent-teacher conferences
Fading into the future, the folded, the eternal, the resume.
Little Miss Ivy League School Prospective Freshman is going to do something
And anything is not something, just as not everyone gets to be someone.
Everyone else she knows is attending The University of "She couldn't get into college, so she went to FILL IN THE BLANK."
Occasionally, Little Miss Ivy League School Prospective Freshman tells Everyone Else She Knows how much she envies them.
They never believe her.
She pops benign little painkillers quite frequently, she's noticed lately
Little Miss Ivy League School Prospective Freshman is prone to tension headaches,
The tension is from the cranial pressure of being someone (potentially)
And the headaches are from the steaming mugs of "Pick-your-poison" that lengthen the night and appease the pressure,
From the days she has something going and wants to be present, minus the halo of caffeinated fog, minus the drugged indifference.
So in lieu, down go the innocent little liquid gels, caffeine's sacrificial little virgins
She's read somewhere that Americans overmedicate with Aspirin.
Instead of fixing what is wrong, they decide not to feel it instead.
Little Miss Ivy League School Prospective Freshman thinks, "No, duh…"
For instant gratification is food for thought for idealists, in tiny, gel-coated capsules
Not that she's addicted to painkillers or anything, but she can understand the appeal,
Just like she can understand all the women poets who killed themselves.
Not that she would ever kill herself, but she thinks she knows why.
Just try to be a Shakespeare or a Picasso nowadays, thinks Little Miss Prospective, and you will truly comprehend the meaning of the word "posthumous."
She's going to be someone, reads the epitaph epiphany.
Pop, pop, pop go the benign little painkillers,
And on the other side of the headache, Little Miss Ivy League School Prospective Freshman watches Everyone Else She Knows laugh together in Never, Neverland,
And worry about normal, normal things for Lost Boys of choice to worry about.
They remain as unchanged, as eternally preserved as the pictures she will hang on the walls of the dorm room at the distant University of Something that she will share with
Jennifer Liu, pre-med, or someone…
Pop, pop, pop…
It's as if she's already miles away.