Lullaby

Sometimes I feel lost and weird.

Like I'm drifting out in some

vacuum of space or

perhaps just the

innards of a vacuum cleaner.

But nonetheless,

there is this feeling of

being lost in the dark

and cold and sometimes

the rain.

There is an illustration in

Persepolis where Marjane

is just floating in space.

It's a very nice picture.

And I feel like that.

But the difference is

that Marjane is in the middle

of the Iranian Revolution,

with people dying and

lots of protesting.

I am only having such things

go on in my head.

There is nothing

even so mildly interesting

or dangerous

or life-threatening

happening in my life.

Because, well,

I live in the midwest,

where we grow corn

and people play cornhole

and talk about sports.

Because I am a teenage girl

who suffers from something

labeled commonly as "angst".

Because I really want someone

to talk to sometimes.

About stuff.

Anything.

About life.

But I don't

want to talk to anyone

because there ends up

being angst and complaining

and then I feel really horrible.

Because nobody should have to listen

to me be a lame teenage girl.

I'm tired of being this way.

I want to fix this state I'm in.

Where nothing is wrong,

though I still feel like everything is.