Walking down the hall
interwined with streams of randomness.
Degradation in some eyes,
uplifting motivation in others.
I look into several faces,
some avert eye contact,
some reflect complete fakeness back.
I push on as my real self.
It's times like these
I wonder how eighth grade dances,
spin-the-bottle,
"love" for the first time,
no-sleep nights,
and crying on shoulders
disintegrated into
'Hey's' in the hallway.
I changed earlier than most,
but are we all that different now?
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