I imagined it so differently.
I guess I expected to be older,
to know what I wanted and to know exactly who I was right away.
But I think I've figured out that's not really how it goes.
Because I'm an "art major" with a B in drawing and an A in english.
I got my last essay back, with a note that read "really well written, but try to make it less personal." Maybe I'm no good at writing essays because I'm afraid of body paragraphs and I've never been good for a convincing thesis sentence.
I could never convince you.
I was lavender skies, just long enough for you to realize that you don't even like the color purple.
I don't know why I thought 2000 miles would make a difference.
Or why god doesn't let you choose which memories mean the most to you.
Because I can't remember feeling any different at 18,
or the first time I tied my shoe by myself.
I can't remember the last time I did something that I loved,
or watched my favorite movie.
Some of the most important things go unrecognized.
But I'll never forget that shade of blue.
