"Your Birthday in June"

DESCRIPTION: on june the 24th of 2022, i attended your birthday party with someone i hold precious. you didn't even show up until they left, where i cautiously entered your room and watched you scream at Call of Duty or whatever else you kids these days like to play. it was... weird. on one hand, it was like they saw me as an outsider. but they didn't hurt me. i just... sat and watched in the corner. somehow, i wished that despite their rowdy and honestly quite immoral behaviour, that i would become integrated into this group. perhaps because i was older than all of them, and percieved as female, i still felt like an outsider. but i dreamed of being one of them. anyway, i followed them into the forest. we navigated through a series of confusing routes through trees and fenceposts, going past a caravan that they had previously left a graffiti mark on, and found ourselves in a field. skirting around the edges of the grass, they found a small brick bunker buried in part of a small mound of dirt, shaded by the trees. the kids went in there, and i had a peek. just at the brink of the doorstep had been placed a couple of glass bottles. the kids picked them up and threw them inside the shelter. they said some edgy jokes that i don't remember. i wanted to laugh. i wanted to remember these nostalgic summer days that i was currently living out. it was like i was in a dream - and not quite in a good way, but more like a dissociative way. i think i've always been like this. anyway, out of a mixture of confusion, exclusion, and remembering the time, i decided to head back off on my own. i think i took a wrong way, and freaked out for a second. that was one of the few times in my life i had been truly "on my own." however, it was just one wrong turn. somehow, i made my way back, and just in time to see my mother. when i saw her, i was anxious she would somehow find out i got lost and repremand me for being irresponsible. but... i don't think she even knew i got lost, or anything about the bottles. actually, i think this is the first time i've ever communicated this story ever before. anyway, despite me being lost and technically alone, i somehow felt... free. i was really worried i would hurt my body (i had an anxiety about having a heart attack from wearing a chest binder or something), and my heart raced because i was unfit and had been walking for a while, but i just... stopped. and stood there. on my own. with the leaves of various interlocking trees looming above me. with the feeling of dirt underneath my weighty boots. that was.... i don't know. cool. and i think back to this sometimes. i was okay, even though i could have potentially been lost. because guess what? no matter what happens, nothing that bad will happen. it's true. and this is why it bothers me so much when my parents complain about me having a phone on a train or not. oh my god i'm so off-topic now but DAMN if that's not annoying. anyway. here's the poem (it's not even about them LOL because i never lookced up to them and they were always younger than me, it's just inspired by a mix of rhings, that i thought should be said)

i think about those older boys i used to look up to,
smashing bottles at the side of the road
and now, thinking back, i notice that
i'm older than they were back when i cared

now, they probably have jobs and wives
they probably have friends with houses worth more than mine
and yet, i still think back to those childish memories
hoping someone out there is thinking about them too

yes
that's my foolish wish

if we point to one star in the sky and promise to look at it every night,
that way we'll be connected
but there was no promise to speak of, i was a coward who couldn't make one
so i'll be looking up with no-one by my side

ah, isn't a beautiful, twinkling sight?
my cowardice can be forgotten as i get lost in these distant lights

and once again, i remember it, and i'm afraid
yes, quite frankly, i just don't know what to say
to explain my attachment issues to you, those feelings
ah, the words i was just saying; i've forgotten them already