Cereal is too soggy

Sun is too hot

Clothes are too big

And the bus is too crowded

Before it has even begun

I feel the dread of the day building in my gut

And souring my mouth with fear

Everything is too new

Shoes are too stiff

Backpack is too heavy

Faces are too eager

This place

Where my impression has yet to leave its mark

Feels foreign

An alien world with strange bodies

Mouths are too wide

Words are too fast

Eyes are too beady

Hands are too touchy

I am unable to keep up with the tumbling of language from their lips

That press and pry under my skin

“What’s your name?”

“Where are you from?”

“Who’s your first period teacher?”

Their questions are a trickle of too cold water

Splashing beneath my collar and spilling down my back

The itchy embarrassment of singularity slithers across my skin

And though it has barely been two hours

All I want is to slip under my covers

And let the day finally be over.