Anne Frank

The emptiness surrounds me comfortably like one of my dad's old sweatshirts. It always smelled like the attic old and dusty and safe. The attic was the one place where I could go to be myself. I would sit there among the junk, the past Christmas presents, outgrown clothes, and all the books I read three times.I would sit, sweat and imagine. I would imagine how much better I would be than all the grownups I saw around me. I would do it different just the way my neighbor spoke about in her high school commencement speech. The world was mine for the taking, after all the children are our future right?(guess you were too wrapped up in the present to remember that cute little slogan.)I had so many ideas that were stewing underneath the fort I made out of a couple of boxes and my dad's old courdoruy jackets. Someday I would fill that jacket and those shoes that I was told were always too big for me. I would look through my broken attic window and I would watch the kids playing while I pondered where I would be in 10 years. Well that was 4 years ago.That was before I realized it's not worth it too ponder the future not when you two payments late on your car note and your cable is getting cut off. What if we became everything our parents wanted us to be. What if I AM everything my parents wanted me to be. I don't know and I know it doesn't help to ask questions that have no answers but I can't help it. I am now in another fort but the boxes and jackets have been replaced with bricks and all the junk I've collected over the years. My own personal attic except it lacks character and it doesn't feel safe. Its not safe because its way too real and life has answered most of the questions I've asked. Well, maybe not answered but stopped me from looking.I look outside my window and I see myself doing all the same things they are and I fucking hate my neighbor and her lies.