Think
By Ali Schneider
Grade Ten, Rutland High School
Are you that kid who over thinks the way you just crossed the street?
You wonder if the teenager in the car waiting at the red light mocks your fierce and awkward gallop to cross the street while balancing all your bags.
Are you that kid who gets lost in class, not because you weren’t trying to pay attention, but because a remark made ten minutes ago is still revolving around your head?
Do you come home from the day to stare at your wall, zoning through every detail, thought, movement, and glare?
If a boy likes your profile picture you already have your wedding planned out.
You are tearing yourself down, but motivating yourself with the comfort that it's better to over think than under think.
I am that girl
who either yells or whispers.
I am that girl who listens to song lyrics until they relate to her life.
I let my words spill out of my mouth,
later wondering where they came from.
I will admit, I analyze each tweet as if it’s an assignment from English class.
In fact, I’m better at analyzing snapchats than analytical essays.
I am one of those kids who can’t seem to work out how to use her over think in geometry class.
Though I think so much about why I think so much,
that is the home base for my
writing,
my art,
my dreams,
and my brain.
I am not ashamed.
Are you one of those kids?
Or do you just let things go?
Would you rather avoid the crosswalk and get hit by a car?
Would you rather be stopped in your tracks because you’ve been bugging that kid about his deceased father? Who, you didn’t realize was dead because you just didn’t think that far.
Would your mind go blank when you have to write reflections in school,
or would you be called an air head for just going with every flow?
Yes, there are 50 stars on the American flag, and each star represents a teenager texting in class, and the particles of dust represent the students willing to try. The red clearly stands for the blood pouring out of the depressed anti-social’s heart which just got smashed by a jack hammer thrown by the football team captain. The white stripes are the white girls carrying their Starbucks in one hand, and iPhone in other, tweeting about their “#whitegirlprobs” which really apply to anyone who lives within a 20 mile radius of some cash. The blue is my arm, bruised from careless walkers, and thoughtful huggers. The angle at which the flag waves at is the angle my head turns when you wave at me.
But that’s just common knowledge, right?
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