adolescence in its many forms

by Kailey Sjauwfoekloy

if my memory serves me correctly,

unfortunate middle school growing pains looked like:

aggressive bangs and side-parts 

adorned by boxy glasses and neon braces,

angst dotting the i’s in my fuzzy blue journal,

after-school mall hangs in my plaid skirt and logoed polo,

generalizations about friends and boys and report cards,

divergent posters littering my green walls,

collages of internet stars and boy bands,

endless wondering about

how to mark the passage of time

beyond dates in chicken scratch

in leaving high school,

i replayed visions:

no more tall pretty girls to make me feel insecure about having my particular cup size,

(or always cuffing the ends of my jeans

or not fitting into brandy melville

or seeing range rovers that desecrated all understandings of familial wealth).

nothing to aggravate my insecurity

in c o l l e g e

(the promised land)

if i may ask

(now that i’m here)

what does adolescence look like now?

tender caresses mimicking expressions of love

when we exchanged hometowns & hobbies only an hour before?

or peering into the grooves of a red plastic cup

(filled with some overpriced IPA)

reflecting a slideshow of pretty pictures back at me:

my face in a toilet bowl later?

my clothes strewn onto someone’s carpeted floor?

my swipe to the right (through my Drunk Goggles)?

my unbridled joy at the dj playing my song request?

my four snoozes at my 9 am alarms?

my eagerness to take another hit?

my midnight shin ramen craving?

when all i’d know:

my head hurts. bathroom. i need air.

“did you have a good weekend?”

my answer clinging to whether or not my highlight reel conjured

glimmering lights and pounding bass

free drinks and corset tops

eye contact and sly smiles

sexual ambiguity and tasteful cleavage

hidden shooters and sweaty palms

forgettable hookups and smoker’s breath

maybe some tiesto

or pitbull?

-

i feel like i am seven all over again when i walk on O street

basking in the east coast’s warmth of newfound familiarity

but it bites still,

with harsh edges to my own guilt

i know, i know –

i am here as scattered eras of myself lay elsewhere

buried yet in that same fuzzy blue journal

(with a cartoon owl and lock still fastened),

anxiety trapped in my warped body mirror,

and heart heavy with longing for all my exhilarating firsts.

i first had bangs when i was little,

but now i think i want them again.