Popcorn

Legally I am an adult.

18 going on 19.

According to most,

I still am a teen.

According to most,

I don’t seem like 18.

According to me,

I don’t think I’m ready to be an adult.

I hold my secrets in the shape of stars,

constellation-clustered candy like flaming balls of gas.

Sometimes they have five points.

Sometimes six.

Always, they burn

in that space inside your head

I went to the LGBTQ+ youth center for the first time.

For a year 

I stared at the website, 

wanting nothing more than to go.

When I finally went, on a Wednesday,

I keep wondering if something is wrong with me,

Because I can’t seem to understand.

And I don’t want to be the person that only writes about crushes and drama,

I’m not shallow don’t worry.

Yet here I am,

always carry your keys between your middle and ring finger 

never have your wallet visible 

don't listen to music in public 

everyone's a stranger 

you're our child; don't scare us. 

in the halls, we lean against the bulletin boards

and whisper of the latest news, last night's breaking, articles snagged

in the moments before leaving for school. lots of adults

think we are too young to understand