It’s 2 AM and I’m on draft sixty-seven

Because sixty-six wasn’t good enough

Classic me

I’ve written more words about myself

Than I’ve actually spent being myself

My counselor says “dig deeper, find your voice”

So I googled “what is my voice”

And got a Buzzfeed quiz and an existential crisis

Mom says “make it more dramatic”

Dad says “just get it all out, fix it later”

My teacher wants a hook

My friend wants a theme

The internet says make up a sob story

I’m not doing that

…probably

3 AM prayers like “God, why can’t I just be done?”

But somewhere between the panic and the deadline

Somewhere between the frustration and the praying

I caught a glimpse of someone in the mirror

And he doesn’t have to be perfect

Wait—he was never supposed to be perfect

I’ve procrastinated professionally at this point

Didn’t need the campus tours, I’m staying in California

Already know the dining hall, the dorms, the parking situation

Named my future roommate Marcus

He’s pre-med and he’s chill

We watch college football Saturdays

This is very normal behavior

Then I remembered—

Friday nights won’t be the same

No more worship songs turning into three-point contests

No more volleyball wars that settled nothing and meant everything

No more board games, ice cream socials

Yeah we’ll have Discord

But it’s not the same as showing up

I’m writing essays about leaving

The people who made me worth writing about

But somewhere between the panic and the deadline

Somewhere between the frustration and the praying

I caught a glimpse of someone in the mirror

And he doesn’t have to be perfect

Yeah, he was never supposed to be perfect

You wanna know something embarrassing?

I spent two weeks on a trauma essay

Really milked the “overcame adversity” angle

Made myself sound like a TED Talk

Before I realized…

My actual best story was about

The kid who dropped drama in middle school

Showed up to high school knowing like two people

Not broken, just… convinced he had to be perfect to belong

Who somehow found his way back on stage sophomore year

And became Colonel Mustard in Clue

That’s not tragedy

That’s just showing up before you’re ready

And learning that’s the only way you ever get ready

DRAFT SIXTY-SEVEN, BABY

WE’RE BASICALLY IMMORTAL NOW

I’VE LOST AND FOUND MYSELF

IN GOOGLE DOCS

SIXTY-SIX DRAFTS AND I’M STILL HERE

SIXTY-SIX REWRITES TAUGHT ME MORE THAN THE FINAL ONE

So here’s to draft sixty-seven

Here’s to the essays I’ve crossed out

Here’s to the crew I’ll miss on Fridays

And the strangers who’ll adopt me

I’m terrified and ready

I’m a mess, but I format well

I don’t know where I’m going

But I finally wanna go there

Somewhere between the panic and the deadline

I found him

Colonel Mustard figured it out

In the auditorium

With a whole lot of imperfection

Turns out he was never supposed to be perfect

…just present

…working on it