The World Ends and Begins with January

The end of days is near - well, really, it's here.

No more waking up at 7am to CBS Drama and then going back to sleep only to be woken up by Lucy/Mona whining on 7th Heaven/Half & Half or the sweat pools collecting in every crevice, crook and corner.
No more collaging until 12pm and putting everything off to 3am when I'm watching Suite Life reruns and spewing absolute rubbish all over Twi'rra.
No more watching spoken word and poetry slam videos on Youtube* for six hours and then repeatedly going through Tavi's blog again and again and again.
Now I'll spend five days a week pining for the weekend and every single waking moment pining for December because I know five minutes into my first day of school I'll be like, I'm so done with this shit. I'm going back to dealing with sexist, racist and/or homophobic microaggressions everyday and having to remind myself that it's just one more year, slow and steady wins the race, you can slam all these basics in your Indie documentary later.

January's the worst because you have to deal with a new year and being expected to suddenly be a new person, and you have to simultaneously forget and remember everything that happened in December, and you're constantly bombarded with back to school ads (TV has no chill) all while you're holed up in your room, blasting The College Dropout trying to forget about school and then school actually starts and you've got a brand new set of eleven months of bullshit, tears and euphoria. January's also terrible because you're reminded that nothing ever really changes.

I think I'm more upset about growing up than anything else because that's what the end of days means anyway. Like, I can't wait to be away from certain teachers, the oppressive choke-hold of parents and school and having to depend on your parents for everything and not being allowed to own anything that's even remotely yours (which is why you hang on so tightly to your favourite music and books so tightly because they're so personal to you and no one can ever love them like you can and, like, seriously THIS IS ALL I HAVE DO NOT TRY TO TOUCH JHENE AIKO BECAUSE I WILL DMX YOUR ASS BACK TO 2002, you feel me). I can't wait to be super hipster in university and meet new, interesting people that are so over high school too and want to hang out in artsy cafes with clever names (THAT ARE PUNS) (no matter what those literary smart guys say, puns will always be funny) and don't think French Montana is great.
But then it's like you're gonna be a grown up and you're going to get old. You're going to have to think about taxes and being wifey material. Everyone will be on your case about settling down and how your clock's ticking and eye creams, shapewear, professionalism, dem hips doe, red wine and candle lit baths, Say Yes to the Dress marathons, life insurance. Your parents aren't going to take you on random shopping trips as much and your mom's not going to be there to make you clean your room and you're going to have to live with your decisions and not be able to blame it on your parents or peer pressure or the fact that you're young and your heart changes, like, all the time.

And don't even get me started on making wise academic decisions this year because my future depends on my results this year because I'm applying to real big schools this year. Why am I, a "silly," "emotional," teenage girl, expected to know what I want to do, where I want to go and who I want to be with? Like, I don't even know what August looks like, let alone the rest of my life.
What if I move to Cape Town and everyone hates me or the wind messes up my hair forever? What if all my friends go abroad and I'm left behind on a different pace? What if I trying living for once (you know, the teenage experience and all that) and end up with malaria?
If I don't know whether or not these things will happen how am I supposed to know if I want to go to the University of Cape Town or live in London or spend a year travelling (I hate airports and road trips and packing and unpacking)?

But I'm like Sway. I don't got the answers.
And that's kind of the nice part to all of this. The not knowing. I guess it's a catch 22 because there'll be a whole new world of possibilities and opportunities and I'll become a new person everyday but then I don't know if it's all going to come up rosy** and if the good things will outweigh the bad things and how am I supposed to prepare myself for the things I can't see?

Like, it's so hard to try to imagine life outside of right now but I know that every year millions of ordinary aliens just like me do this and grow up and stuff.

Forever,
Khenzo xx

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* seriously, though, everyone needs to discover Zora Howard, Alysia Harris, Falu's '10 Things I Want to Say to a Black Man,' Joshua B's '10 Things I Want to Say to a Black Woman,' Jasmine Mans, Def Jam Poetry and the millions of other things that will appear in the related bar***
** (what if university is just like high school except without parents and teachers in your bidness?) (what if it's more lonely nights in a dark room, yelling the lyrics to Destiny's Child songs) (or what if I fail because of a hectic 'party' lifestyle) (and by party lifestyle I mean Skins and Revenge marathons when I should be studying) (like, what flies in high school isn't supposed to fly in univeristy, amirite)
*** you are so eternally welcome for these links