The Difference Between Twenty-Two and SeventeenA Poem by Here's What I SayIf I met my 17-year-old self while writing "Can't Fight the Moonlight"
Stefanie, listen to me
Damn, Dad’s right I do scowl a lot
Ok, ok, ok, I forget how sensitive I am
You don’t look too thrilled to see me
What, the gut?
Yeah, you’re still going to have the gut in five years
But that’s not why I’m here, so stop changing the subject—
No, you won’t have a boyfriend in five years
Trust me
A boyfriend will be the least of your problems
Crushes will be bad enough—
You don’t know who Robert Pattinson is? Who is he?
Stefanie, all you need to know is one day you won’t be able to stop thinking of him
Now, would you PLEASE let me to get to the bottom of why I’m here?
I don’t know how I got here either
All I know is that I thought I was going to have trouble at the gate
But the security guard just asked me why I wasn’t wearing my school uniform Nuff said.
Alright, I’m here because of your story
Yeah, you’re gonna write better stuff later too
You’re gonna love what you’re going to be writing in two years, never mind five
What about those years in between?
…Call it your metamorphous years.
Those are the years where you’re gonna be developing in your little literary cocoon
NOW.
Your story is cute
Flat out adorable
Don’t you love the part where Marian’s at Mahina’s house
And she turns to leave and she steps on a condom wrapper?
And you thought of that! That little piece of comic genius is yours!
…No, Stefanie. He’ll never see it. And he’ll never be Frank.
I’m sorry, sweetie.
Stefanie, look at me.
Look at me. Or at the dot on our noses. Close enough.
He isn’t worth your time. Or your tears.
Wait, I shouldn’t have said that.
Why? Because you need to write this story.
You’re not out of the woods yet. And you’re not due out for a little while longer.
When? You’ll find out
How? You’ll find out
Why?
Because you promised him.
Stefanie, I came here to tell you to write this story
And not to change a thing
As much as you’re crinkling your nose in your way
As much as you hate crying over your keyboard like freakin’ Diane Keaton
I can’t tell you to change a thing about this story.
It won’t be magnificent
It won’t be your best
It won’t keep you in love with him
But telling you to change your story
Is the proverbial house built upon sand
And I need you to be my rock.
© 2009 Here's What I SayFeatured Review
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6 Reviews Added on May 2, 2009 AuthorHere's What I SayTorrance, CAAboutI was born on July 3rd 1986 in Torrance, California, and grew up there all my life. I had a hankering to start writing when I was eight, but didn't start actively pursuing it until I was thirteen and .. more..Writing
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