The Prufrock Equation

by Ivan Zhang, 14

I sit on the rickety metal stairs

Nailed to the brick wall of my fourth-floor walk-up

The only place to exhale

In a life of boarded-up windows

To be honest, I boarded them up myself

Telling myself I could always do the important thing later

Until all my yesterdays ate my tomorrows

If only I had dared disturb the universe

If only I had dared to become the captain of my soul

If only I had dared to rage against the dying of the light

Maybe I wouldn't be shipwrecked anymore

I once sat behind the desk of my sunlit youth

Asking myself whether it was worth it or not

To do something that mattered

To stop waiting and wasting

The only time I had

Chasing after never-ending dopamine spikes

Planning and talking instead of doing

Going for what felt best

Not what was best

Now, I sit alone on my mouldering sofa

Inhaling the mildew of dreams never pursued and 

opportunities never taken

I am a servant to the oily fry machine

A McDonald’s French fry instead of a home-baked roasted potato

Because too many of my choices were for dopamine instead of discomfort

Dare I say I was unaware of what was to come?

And so now I am

A breeze flowing through wheat

A grouper sleeping at the bottom of the deep sea

As all of life rushes above me

I used to think I had enough time

To do all the things I thought I should do to fix my life

To get in shape, to change my diet, to do things for Future Me

Until I realized if keep telling myself I have endless days before I even start

I won’t

I told myself I would work out tomorrow

Until I saw there are people who would give anything to exercise again

I told myself I would do it tomorrow

Until I saw there are people who would give anything to see tomorrow

And so now as I pen this at age fourteen, I know

That one day, I will see what I most wish to avoid now as a gift

So I open the present

And run with it