It seems as if, no matter how much I try to hold on to something, I can’t.  I don’t even have time to wrap my head around anything.

Everything is moving faster than me and I can’t seem to hold onto the present.  Right when I start to settle in, everything changes.

I got used to letting everything slip through my fingertips, until I met you.  When I met you, I finally felt as if I could hold onto something.

But, I was wrong.

I should have known that I couldn’t hold onto anything, let alone you, but I was young and foolish.

I got used to your arms. I thought they would hold me in the present my whole life.

Then, one day they were ripped away faster than I could blink.  The one place that I truly felt safe was taken away.  It hurt and was scary. I thought it could never get worse, until I realized you meant more to me than I could have ever meant to you. I seemed to be something that you wanted to forget and you wanted to erase me.

You ripped me apart and made me feel lower than I could have ever imaged, but I had my best friend.

At least, that’s what I thought, until she found a new boy who was better than me.

Then, I lost another close friend.  It felt as if he dropped off the face of the earth.  He never texted me and I never even saw or heard anything about him, until he was on my friend’s story.  This friend thought we had drifted apart and no longer wanted to be my friend as well.

So, I laid in my bed all day with nothing to do and no one to do nothing with.

All my friends did things with their summers, they posted it, too.  I watched them have fun and get tan as I laid in bed and let the present fully slip from my grasp.

Now, I have to grow up, vote, apply to college, and survive my senior year. I have to do this while faking to everyone I have a grip on the present and present myself as put-together.

I’ve slipped like this before and somehow I was able to make it out, but sometimes it really seems impossible without you.

Why wasn’t I enough for you?

Why did you let me slip?

Why wouldn’t you let me make things okay?

Why should I try to make things okay when you’re the one who fucked it up?