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I got depressed aroun my 18th b-dayRate this Poem
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Created on 8-13-07
Tomorrow I turn 18, my “Childhood” is finally concluding. As sad as I should be, I’m torn between excitement and depression. What tends to keep me going is the mentality that I have created for myself. “Kid at heart as the Wrinkles near.” I’ve laughed, I’ve cried, and done just about everything that seems to please me. Yet, I’m still not happy. I have my whole life ahead of me and it displeases me. For what… friends to die, grow old, or become wealthy? Why look forward to something that’s only a blink in the eye of the universe. I ponder these things…I’m not crazy or depressed, just quite curious. Please, don’t misinterpret this but “Why are we here?” the question that’s been asked since BC. Why in the “world” would someone put human beings on a rock and let them live until the clock runs out. It’s certainly a cruel joke! Today, a day before my 18th birthday, I saw a kid across the street from my weather beaten porch. He would toss a ball onto the white roof only to hit it as it descended towards the earth. I sat on the steps and watched the peculiar actions of a 10 yr. old boy play ball. He was all alone; I thought of offering to throw the ball for him but immediately scratched it off, as something that seemed improper! Me, I, Sam, felt that it was “Improper” to throw a ball for a kid without a playmate. As you get older your mentality changes, so this whole little world I have created, lived, and silently taken in as my mind is slowly crumbling. Soon I’ll be worried about balancing my checkbook, being on time for work, and watching what I eat. When I reached high school, I came to realize that it was a community, or more appropriately a tiny world. As people are born, freshmen enter. New… undamaged, right out of the box. However, with birth comes death, they walk hand in hand. Born ® Death, Freshman ® Seniors. With age comes the realization that as I near senior year; I’m one step closer to my little “Death” march in white robes (Cliché) and pinchy shoes. All my friends are excited to be seniors; they don’t see that the “mini” world is getting rid of them. Import then export! Why? Don’t really know. I hate the idea that I’ll be forgotten. Every morning I push it towards the back of my mind and continue brushing my teeth. The moral or idea achieved in this is…”Don’t stare at 10 yr. old boys playing baseball by themselves.” Remember!
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