this morning #637.

this morning, he’d woken up weary from lacrosse & weed but for now was freed from both after a night alone on a high school back lawn longing, wondering if he’d ever find his types. music. sex. people. they all seemed so typical around here. they all seemed so "high school.” hours past from lying high on the grass, he worried he’d been typecast as the stoner jock, always rocking the requisite hoodie. soon, he’d walk out the door & walk to the mall & walk down its halls, making sure to keep up appearances. he’d begun to resent these hollow routines. connecticut didn’t care about some sixteen-year-old stoner jock. to balance things out, he decided to start caring less about connecticut.