Olga's Poetry & Thoughts

Be free of my pain as it gnaws at my chest See through my soul as I become undressed Rip through the tatters, then you will see A bloody broth stirring inside of me You bleed chocolate and I breed shame You seek calmness and I need flame A dire distraction, is all this seems When it's only chaos I see in my dreams So feed me turmoil, it's what I live on Do me no justice, although it feels wrong Rip through the tatters, then you will see A soul polluted with helpless debris

It is hard for me to believe that twenty years have passed. Two whole decades. A new generation of kids have entered elementary school. Kids who don't have a clue about Gwen Stefani, Walkmans, or the joys of MSN Messenger. I feel old and yet so ridiculously young at the same time. Twenty is a difficult age: I'm old enough to potentially drink myself to sleep every night, but I'm still too young to be taken seriously in the workforce. Therefore, for me, twenty is all about self-discipline. Having the option to do something doesn't mean you should do it. So I'll stay in school, spending countless hours slaving over essays which will be bell curved anyway, in order to get a piece of paper that may or may not give me a head start in "the real world" (twenty year olds don't really live in the real world, you see). For now, reality as a twenty year old can be summarized in a few simple bullet points: Frozen pizza  Debating between going to class or goin