Senior year was dimmed by the coming shadow of applying to college
Countless hours in coffee shops writing essays
The alternating waves of excitement and stress
It’s all about the money
Paying for applications, paying for school. It’s all about the decisions
Where to apply, what to send. It’s all about the waiting
And the waiting.
You never know when a college
will say hi. Change your life. When it’s made its decisions
that will have an immeasurable impact on your life. Were my essays
good enough? Will they give me enough money?
I can’t remember the last time I closed my eyes without stress
I’ve learned to channel my stress
I use it to make me do things. I use it to ignore the waiting
and I use it to try and gain money
If I can’t handle this, how will I be able to handle college?
I push the thought away. Back to my essays
My dad reminds me I’m bad at making decisions
I haven’t thought much about my decisions
I lie, letting my stress
speak. I could barely decide how to write my essays
Now, this. Maybe I don’t mind the waiting
The less I know, the less real it seems. College
has my number. God, but the money.
I pretend I can decide, but it’s the money
that really decides. I guess I don’t have any decisions
after all. Is that better or worse? Ask me in college
when I’ve learned to turn off my stress
instead of force it down my own throat. I’m waiting
to see if I break down. Maybe. No more essays
So what’s next? Ask the essays
yet to be written. I tell them I’ll pay money
for them to be quiet. So they hush. Lie in waiting
as if they had decisions
to make of their own. My stress
says hello. Nothing is said by my college
Nobody warned me that the stress started with the essays
And didn’t end with the waiting. I think it ends with the decisions
Or maybe when I finally get money. I’ll know in college.