I wrote this on Friday.

You have a bounty on your head 

and flowers in your hands that are going to die without regrowing 

because they've been stripped from their seeds.

And flowers only regrow if they stay in their dirt sockets.

Maybe that's an analogy for you.

For all the baseball games and boys with better eyelashes

and the fever that kept your heels on the ground during Homecoming.

I'm sorry I never paid you back for lunch

or attendance school

or for gas

or for the ticket into the game.

I walked out of my high school for the last time talking about sophomore year

and the 1990 Carola and Mike & Mike in the morning

I talked about the girl who got up early because she had a crush on the carpool driver,

the first time I ditched class, Tuesday as a sophomore, first period

with Tanner Hafen and Matisse.

I wanted to marry him and him and him and even him, once, because he'd be a good dad

and all you think about in high school is "who will be a good dad", right?

No.

I'm sorry I kissed him

but I'm not sorry we cried it out

and I'm not sorry we fled for Vegas once,

and John Mayer will always play when I'm sleeping under the sun on the tramp

and I still have the 4 bucket lists I made between ages 15-18,

coated with mostly unchecked boxes

but I wouldn't go back and check them if God let me.

I'm sorry I stormed the pedestal and called it my throne

despite that it was.

It was.

I'm sorry I doodled in every class, 

especially in yours, Nelson,

but I promise I heard everything you said. 

I listen better when the pen is scratching away

at the shell of my brain.

I used to jump from Jake Irving's balcony back in 8th grade

and I loved him so much that I saved all his post-football-game thank-you texts.

I still have them.

I'm still in my graduation dress even though it's been 5 hours

and I won't change.

I only snuck out twice in high school, which is a feat considering

my window is right on the edge of perpetual teen rebellion

and my parents haven't checked on me in years.

I sat in 2 totaled cars this year.

I got thrown from a vehicle once, too, but Matisse saved our paintings.

And I have more Kneaders receipts than report cards.

Report cards are dead anyway.

But I've been watching Vampire Diaries since that one November when I faked sick 

for 3 days because Netflix was calling me

and I'll never understand why Annie Racker or anyone wanted perfect attendance

when all they give you is a donut.

Once I bought a whole box of donuts when I should've been in class.

I broke up with a boy and he cried and wouldn't let me leave his car because

I waited until after he bought me food from Paradise Bakery

to set the ropes on fire.

if that tells you anything about me

I left my high school thinking about the time Jackson called me the "tennis queen"

because I was in an all-boys PE class and I played 3v3 basketball with Calvin Whiting

and we won under the direction of Quincy Lewis

so where's my ring?

I thought about how Matt Criddle is the best dancer at Lone Peak

and how Abby Keenan decorated her cap and not even Mrs. Chambers stopped her.

I thought about how McKay and I met when he still had braces,

I thought of Fault in Our Stars and how I read that years ago while in Amsterdam 

and how I discovered Justin Bieber in fifth grade.

and I thought of Mr. Rios asking me to marry his sons 

and the time he physically kicked Jared out of class

and I thought of Mr. Melville's term finals and J-dawgs on Valentine's Day

and being lonely on Valentine's Day but enjoying the leggings

and the paintings 

the paintings 

the paintings

and the stool in Pack's room that Bonnie and I swapped for real chairs

and the watercolors of the moon 

(since I had a phase with the moon)

and I thought about love.

I thought about it.

And now I'm graduated and my ward gave me gifts

and my dad has 10 siblings and my mom has 8
and yet none of my relatives have given me cash,

but I'm not mad about it.

I thought about everything.

How some girls wait for love to excuse them from the table,

how some boys are taught about the difference in wives and mistresses 

and how some end up with both

and how life is a pile of bricks on the verge of becoming a skyscraper

but it's lacking blueprints.

It's lacking blueprints 

so go to art school and learn how to draw them.