Looking Back...

I'm at my parent's house looking at journals and photos and I've just realized 2 things:
a) I wasn't cool, and;
b) I was a melodramatic spaz.
If I were my parents, I'm not sure I would've encouraged me to become a writer either.

Below is my now immortal grad yearbook text. I am fucking aghast:
No more robots running 'round,
No longer in these walls I'm bound
Now allowed to make a sound,
But 13 yrs confined.

Don't have to raise my hand to speak,
Don't have to ask to take a leak,
Don't have to sit in desks all week,
Allowed to use my mind.