When I was little, I wanted to be here,

but now that I'm here, I want to be little.

And maybe if my parents had told the principal in kindergarten that yes, I could skip two grades, then maybe I wouldn't be sitting here in my underwear and hoping that the closet would disappear so I'd be forced not to set foot outside the house.

(like in those dreams where you go to school and it turns out you're naked (except I've never had those).)

Instead my dreams center around me forgetting which door is the door I'm supposed to go into.

Tripping down the school stairs only to realize no one is ever going to help me up.

Maybe if I was a child again, my dad would swoop me into his arms and tell me that I wouldn't have to go to school today.

But I have to go to school today; because I have to go to school everyday; because I need a job and I need to be able to support the children I'm going to have; because I live in a country where knowledge only costs you a couple thousand dollars, your sleep, and your mind.

If I fell down the stairs and never got up, maybe then-