You watch the movie and you watch over and over again how they say the words. "Oh Captain my Captain." You watch Puck, you watch the gun, you watch the after birth of death, tears tears tears. You've gotta wonder sometimes why death is always followed by tears. It was coming some time.
You watch the dead poets society and you try as hard as you can to relate to one of the characters in the movie, one of the private boys, but it's a little hard, because their parents are a little bit worse than yours. You can't exactly relate to them, you don't want to be a martyr. You can't be Neill, so stop trying. Stop trying to revolt.
You've gotta realize that you're just not enough sometimes. You've just gotta realize that they want you to be perfect. You can't be perfect, so now you've got to realize that they probably don't love you like they used to, back before they had expectations. You've gotta realize that the picture of that little curly haired boy will never ever make her cry as hard as she did when she first found it again. Pain in nostalgia. Over and over time and again.
You've seen it so many times now it's become like a broken record. A broken record you just can't turn off. Over and over time and again. You've got to realize that in six months time you'll be somewhere else. Somewhere so far away you'll never have to deal with these expectations again. Now take a moment to curse the invention of the telephone. Take a moment to curse the invention of capitalism. Take a moment to realize that you'll never get away from it.
Take just a second to reflect on why it is you're trying to excercise, eat right, and experiment with your sleep patterns. Take just a second and ask yourself why you enjoy Calculus, or why you worked so hard at karate even though you hated it. Take a second, just a second to try to give back to the wonderful recording you made tonight. Just take a second to try to keep the tendrils of your self-esteem going.
Just like you'll be. We all will be. Existentially speaking at least.