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Make MY Past Make SenseSitting on a playground where you think, maybe you were happy.
But looking from you're eyes, you're no longer sure.
Because it was all tainted by the future.
Now none of it counts,
They say I've had symptoms my whole life.
I want to reach out,
To the little ghost girl of my memories
Tell her not to grow up,
The symptoms get worse till they consume you.
I want to tell her to stop worrying
Just for a minute and really have fun.
I want to go back and maybe change it
Maybe change how it turns out
That little girl never really enjoyed anything
She worried over every tiny thing
She had such a hard time.
But I no longer know if that's true
Or if I'm looking back with different knowledge
Trying to fill in the gaps.
Make my past make sense,
Make it all add up to the way I feel right now.
Because honestly, How do you get this far
So fast without a past?
Nine TimesI saw him nine times.
The first time we were both sitting in the room together, getting ready to take the math test that would determine our placement. I was scatterbrained and throwing things around, trying to find the pencils that I had known I would need but had still just tossed in my purse. He was lounging backwards in his chair, looking for all the world as though he didn’t have a single care in the world, including the upcoming test. It annoyed me, that I was frantic and ready to scream, while someone else could be that relaxed.
I tested out of the class.
I don’t know if he did.
The second time I saw him, it was a few months after I arrived on campus. He was the one rushing and frantic this time, running across the square. He was probably late for class, though I had no way of knowing for sure. I was already lost in my own thoughts and ideas, deciding on my major and convincing people that yes, this is what I really want to do with my life. If they weren
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