norwalk lies amidst the snow banks of calgary and potential school shootings

In the snow banks of calgary

Lay your troubled soul.

I can hear your heart, breathing.

I can hear all your human noise.

Sitting in the dark.

There’s something about that town

The iridescent glow of bars at 2 am and gas stations at midnight

And

A smoke filled room

Bikes crashing, a whiskey nightmare

Toni Morrison on repeat, repeat…. Deleted

Viles and cakes and theatres and hip hop and goodwill and the smell of gasoline and hiding under tables.

Maybe they’re born with it, maybe it’s mental illness.

There she lay, amidst a sea of white, a coast of gold.

Captured by the diversity, let loose by the intolerance.

Growing but never quite growing up

You lost many things, gained much more.

Street cleaners and the smell of low tide and the shittiness of MTA and snapchat and churches and a Barnes and Nobles that once was, is no more.

The life aquatic of the birds and the bees and the sky-high wasteland of you and me and us.

Sophie, the old lady from Greece that owns the cornerstore, tells you to take the Barbecue chips. She’s watched you grow, she’s watched you buy lotto tickets for your non-english speaking parents. It’s a small town type of love. You reluctantly take the bag of chips you would have taken secretly regardless. She smiles at your rebellion and loneliness.

Sophie. and dive bars and sex and depression and disassociation and competition and happiness and rediscovering Tolstoy.

Your first one was with the girl next door, quite literally, and you tell no one and then you do the same thing but with Brandon C. 3 years later and you stand next to your locker with your eyes wide open while he massages your tonsils with his tongue, but you think it’s the right way. And then you take a razor and you shave.

Razors and Brandon and kissing and lips and girls and dancing and Lil Wayne

The children are not alright, in fact, they’re fucked. And you know this. And you are not here. You are walking across the bridge to terabithia. You are not ready to let go.

the doors of your high school bring about an endless cycle of angst and repression saw fit for a therapist--or so they told you. and you are not here or there, you belong in a hole where the choice used to be. these were your worst moments.

and then... a magnificent change blesses you; cloaked in feminism & arts & society & culture and the love of the unknown.

A carcass of a choice. a rediscovery of a past life love. this is where you're meant to be. in the vortex of choices. renaissance man, they used to call you. past life karma, they call you now. either way, you are making your way.

In the mind of norwalk you found your heart. in the heart of norwalk lies your teenage dreams and some form of you you are not. acceptance and obligatory smiles.

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