#proessing

Don Broco // Automatic

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curve packing 1

Graduation Night Thoughts Nostalgia is a complicated feeling and I’m not having any of it tonight. I will not allow it to seep into my pores, nor will I allow it to creep through my throat. It will not emerge when I take a left into this parking lot, instead of going straight, towards home. It will not whisper to me as I get out of the car and walk into the building. It will not call my name as I walk through the halls, hearing my footsteps echo through the empty corridors. It will not knock at my door as I walk onto the stage and stand there, looking at the imaginary audience. It will not giggle as I open my locker, as I walk past my favorite classroom (the one I spent two years in the same chair, learned about my passion for politics, became a well-rounded indvidual). It will not coo softly as I make my way to the gym and stand in the center, gaze at where my name used to shine in the top spot. It will not pang in my chest as I walk down to the field and think about the Friday nights I spent here wishing for anywhere but here. It will not ram into the center of my being as I think about how big that building used to seem, how anonymous I felt, how lost I used to be. It will not overwhelm me as I eventually wander home and lay on my bed and think about how my identity has been shaped enormously by the public school system and tomorrow I will no longer be a part of it, tomorrow I will leave it all behind, but it will probably never truly escape me. Nostalgia can get the fuck out of here because it’s killing my vibe.