Eighteen
It's when you're 'grown up'
Leaving behind sparkly dresses
And leg warmers and coloured streaks
And dark lipstick and lip gloss
For one blank faceless face.
Eighteen
It's when Pepsi stops fizzing
And solidifies into coffee
And the sweetness darkens to tart alcohol
And you drink and drink and drink
To forget what never existed.
Eighteen
It's when what you like disintegrates
To form a smokescreen
Of what you must like
Of Freudian phrases and sullen quotes
That hint at intriguing intellect.
Eighteen
It's when laughter is frowned upon
And stifled to form a dry chuckle
Dry as a throat in the morning
From an angry night of tête-à-tête, Marlboro
and Gauloise.
I am not myself
Not this surly avatar with dark shades
Haunting quaint cafes with tiny books
Filled with existentialism
And thinking, thinking, thinking and thinking.
I'm eighteen
I am supposed to want to conquer
And change, with big words
Along with a spoonful of reality
To dose everyone with mouthfuls of bitter better.
But I'd consider it my biggest achievement
If I were to die at eighteen
To convince myself, right here, right now
To believe in Disney, Blyton, Rowling and the heroes
To hold fast to friendship, wit and bravery.
For later, and forever more
I know I will look back
And sigh, and wish
That if I could go back, I'd tell my eighteen-year old self
To just be that. Eighteen. A teen.
