My future depends on

How alluring I am

As a combination

Of a few words and numbers

On an electronic application.

It may not even be the right one

But I can’t know until

They choose me

And I choose them.

Perhaps by default.

I’ve spent the past few years

Immersed in the results

Of countless internet searches

Trying to find

The One,

My perfect fit

That meets a thousand different

Criterion

That all seem to contradict each other.

And I’m not sure if this is

What I want

Or what I am supposed to want

Because I’m not even

Eighteen

I can’t decide what to eat for

Lunch,

Never mind where I will be

Living

For the next four years.

What I don’t want is all

Tangled up with unsure

Double takes

And all I’ve got to go off of

Are a few reviews

Written by a mix of people

Who only want my

Money,

People

Who attended

When leisure suits

Were socially acceptable,

And people

Who can’t be bothered

To fill out a survey

Properly

So that those of us

Who are

Utterly

Hopelessly

Overwhelmingly

Frazzled and confused

Can get a glimpse

Of what our lives could possibly

Be

If an admissions officer

Happens to like us

Based on

A combination of

A few words and numbers

On an electronic application.