To live young, wild and free.

The mantra of a true college kid.

But this kid was afraid, afriad of uncharted territory.

Culture, tradition and religion. The pinnacles of what I used to believe was oppression.**

What is true freedom? In the face of redundant needs and wants that society feeds us and begs us to submit too.

I always understood the true nature of rules and regulation but it never feed my need to understand the “Why” to it all.

Why should I submit?

Why am I wrong for wanting to enjoy myself?

Why is my expression of self so offensive to your nature?

One thing that was never a first for me was knowing that; I create my rules and regulations.

I am a flawful human-being, but I should learn and grow into what is right for me. What nurtures me,

With that being said, on an implusive college night, I raged in the distress of my religious ancestors.

I gave away to the culture of the party world, willingly too.

I always knew I needed to experience the music flowing through my body, the liquor numbing my survival instincts and the Psychadelics taking me to other worlds.

**That was the life I chose on that eventful night. **

**It was a blur of bodies and the pungent smell of spilt tequila. **

For some reason I could never get drunk, never feel the liquid courage that everyone spoke about.

**I folded the truth in to something smooth, something easy to carry and easier to leave behind. **

No one suspected a thing.

Just an innocent Friendship Camp, that I “begrudgingly” had to accept in this the cursed liberal arts program.

**Once the ruse was over, it was GO time. **

I**’**m free, free of surveilance, of the judging gaze that I felt silently over my shoulder. I can do the sins of sins. No one will know.

It escalated pretty quick, quicker than one might thing.

A dance turned into a drink, a drink turned in to a few more, which turned into lines of pure snow and then to intimacy.

Touch without care, pleasure without warmth.

I have no regrets; Initial feelings never lasted.

I**’****m beyond that now, but the thrill, how I loved the thrill. **

It will last me a lifetime of lessons and an abundance of memories to pull from that excites me away from Stark reality.

The lifestyle never lasts, but the feeling is embedded into the the threads of my soul

Flip Flap; Pfannkuchen fliegt auf und ab Er ist süß, rund und später in meinem Mund Gewendet wie ein Profi, ess ich ihn gleich oder doch später mit Toni Ein erstes Mal

Sometimes it’s difficult to close my eyes at night.

As if a marionettist is cupping my cheek, pushing furrows into my brow and squeezing my eyelids closed, tight enough to peel until my forehead aches.

When my eyes glue shut for long enough, staticy patterns bob and dip in my vision until they swirl and mold into my mother and I am opening the garage door.

Breathing in the scent of tar, marlboro blues, and my mothers freshly-washed hair.

If I inhale again I am my mother and a grainy substance is tucked neatly into a line on the toliet paper holder of the bathroom stall, my hall pass dangling from my fingers and grazing the smooth skin of my calves every so often.

I glance towards the wooden boards of my little sisters bed and manuver my body to face the opposite wall across from me, as I pull my comforter up to my shoulders and twist my legs until their wrapped around eachother, the bed tipping slightly from such movement.

My hand slowly wraps around the door knob, cold with condensation making my palm slick and wet.

I look over to my little cousin and younger sister, I feel another onslaught of giggles creep up my throat as I shoo Becca’s hand away from my chest.

As the film from such a change in lighting lessons, my mothers nostrils flare in my direction as powder lightly flutters back onto the tray it originated with delicacy my mothers eyes don’t seem to hold.

If I fail to omit carbon from my lungs, sometimes I puff out my cheeks and swish vigorously like im drinking salt water my mother brought me in my orange and green sippy cup as a child to convince me to allow my sinuses to clear up,

When my chest falls and rises slightly out of tune not a word is said.

Not a word is said when I wake up to the screech of an ambulance tumbling through the streets, my hair stuck wryly to my face and pillow slightly damp below my neck.

You get in the car the next day, you’re thirteen and you fumble with your backpack strap as your step mom tells you your mothers in the hospital due to an overdose directly after getting off the bus.

The kitchen reeks of cigarettes but you take a drunken seat even if your nose contorts in pain, your mother is laughing when your aunt tells her you had a little-too-much to drink at the party.

She gives you a stern look, and calls you an idiot, and your uncle chants and points at your rosy nose and pink cheeks, but your fifteen and kids make mistakes sometimes.

Now, the best time to do drugs when your mother does drugs is when she’s too high to realize your high too.

Her arm wraps around my shoulder, and she stares up at the TV, chortling about how staged this reality show is, but you notice the screen bounces across her bubbly and bright eyes, and the way her two front teeth protrude her lips just slightly when she smiles.

You tell her you love her, and that you wouldn’t trade her for any other mom in the world, and when she looks down at you she sees a child with a wobbly grin and pin-point, shaky pupils.

She plants a kiss on your forehead, she whispers,“I love you so much honey.”

And when you tuck your head against her chest, and wrap your arm around her boney frame, when your eyes close this time instead of seeing your mother you see yourself.

And instead of stumbling around the kitchen after work you stumble against the lockers of the 300 hall, and your nostrils rattle everytime you inhale.

And your not the thirteen year old that smoked weed for the first time at your friends neighbors house while dripping pool water the towel couldn’t dry from your bikini, but you now hear your grandmothers visceral sobs as she calls your doctor to get checked in immediately for the second time,

And sometimes when the world turns slow enough, you look into the shards of glass you call a mirror and your mother waves to you from the other side, only now you are unshrinking.

I heard it could help. Water close to freezing temps. Honestly, how could I? They said go fast. They said regulate your breathing. Just a toe is excruciating. Will I have a heart attack? One, two, three. Still chicken! Ok, deep breath. You. Can. Do. It. All the way in. All at once. Except the arms. Can't catch my breath. Regulate. Close my eyes. Breathe. Yeah. This works. Feels fucking amazing.

The knife against my throat, your hands around my neck.

You promised that you loved me, but I knew we couldn’t go back.

You gave me what I wanted when I wanted it the least. I know that I hurt you, as you spread my legs and feast.

The light in my eyes grew more dim As my womanly curves began sprouting—

Even the pollinators craved the taste of me—

A cherry blossom in the throes of her first spring. So fragrant that I want to pluck myself. Opening my petals took courage That I was not born with—

Yet I drank it Like it was liquid gold, Coating my vocal chords in honey To sing a syrupy song.

I thought a choir of angels accompanied me, But at the center of the stage, All I am is the king’s joker.

Recite a limerick Or it’s off with my head. Perhaps I’ll say hello to Aunt Jane’s sister-wives on the way down.

My common sense kept rolling in ways my hips envied. I chased it into sobriety the next morning And woke up to everything out of place.

With each step I take into this mysterious and foreboding world, Because there is no other option, I wished to discover in this shadow how to discover the light.

After being in the dark for a long time, it is hard to see the light.

Until one day I caught sight of a twinkle—what appeared to be a single star in the cosmos—and, as it drew nearer, I realized it was more beautiful than before; I desired that star.

The star's uniqueness only increased my desire for it; nevertheless, I have never before witnessed anything so extraordinary—and terrifying—all at the same time.

My mind starts to obsess, my body begins to tremble, and I find myself wondering: Can I manage this star? Does this even exist?

Afterwards, I rapidly came to the realization that rather than avoiding the star's beauty, one should draw nearer to it and embrace it because it is unique.

Its uniqueness is neither a virtue nor a defect; rather, it necessitates that I adapt.

Thus, for the first time in my life as a child, Despite my fears, I was compelled to offer my heart To a rare star, With the wish that it would shield it from harm instead of destroying it,

I can taste salt on my upper lip Feel the soft folds of my body dampen. Cloudless blue and not a breath of wind While the sun blisters toward its brutal peak.

My partner is the lifetime kind A cool comfort in this odd company. The ice fades fast in my sugared rum But he is cold water, the smile on my lips.

Should we want to win? Paddles picked, bets brokered. First timers vs. cutthroat mediocres Despite the loss, this indifference is bliss.

After the match, the games persist Wistful winks and volleyed glances. I'm no athlete but he sees the sport When we play together, we always score.

You walk me back to my car. My heart racing. Do I kiss you? No.

This was a mistake. What if I’m not gay. What am I doing? Shit.

You ask if you can kiss me. You lean in. What do I do? FUCK.

Your lips land on mine. Our tongues dance. Is this real life? Incredible!

In my hands, I hold, Three round balls. I sigh with excitement, Ready to learn something new.

Tossing one in the air, I release any doubts. Tossing the second, I can do this.

Catching the first, Feeling like a rock hitting my hand, I throw up the third, And catch the second.

I release any negative emotion, With each ball toss. Catching only happy feelings, And a new skill.