THE CLOCK IS TICKING ON MY YOUTH

photo by arantxa villa

THE CLOCK IS TICKING ON MY YOUTH

fourth year priya desai

and i know when you’re twenty-one they’ll laugh at you for saying that

but only because they don’t remember what it felt like,

the same way i laugh at twelve year olds who think their lives will never change,

and my older brother and sister are reading this and rolling their eyes

(what do i know about getting older?)

but i know better, once i blinked

and now the three of us will never live together again

look, nothing prompts an existential crisis like thinking about the passage of time

and honestly, i think i’m still a teenage girl, perpetually nineteen,

unsure if i’ve ever felt young, i was eleven and ready for post-grad, 

blink again and fourteen,

once divorced, miserable, and all-knowing

already, i’ve been losing some of my “best” years to circumstance and change

and now i’m too close to aging out of leo dicaprio’s dating pool for my comfort

god, what will i do then?

and alcohol doesn’t even taste the same after college

past 22, and irresponsibly drunk in broad daylight is just messy,

sometimes i feel i’ve been “mature for my age” my entire life, i just

want to be young again, or maybe forever, 

seeking the fountain of youth in higher education

(should i go to grad school?)

although i guess youth is a construct, like gender and virginity, and

maybe the older people i know are living their best lives, 

(i mean, michelle took a shot the other day, past 22 and still fun), and

maybe the future isn’t a cliff i’m looking over, or maybe

i’ll stop being scared of heights someday,

or maybe not,

i’m twenty-one and know nothing, but

sometimes i hear self care by mac miller and i believe him

i got all the time in the world