I’m sorry.
I want to drive three towns over in the sticky late-spring heat, past the condemnations, political duels, and the honeysuckle bushes.
I want to wade in the sea of fold-up chairs and gasoline coffee
And engage with strangers to myself and to my education—
Just to tilt my head forward with sorrow and shame, look down at them all, and say that I am sorry.
Sorry, my experiences are too untoward.
Sorry, that history hurts, and the glossy covers on library books don’t shield you from discomfort.
Sorry, that lazy summers on the shore and juvenile explorations in the woods and the peaceful origins of
My literacy have to be so brutally punctuated by discourse—
Like that of a freight train scattering broken noise across a too quiet town.
Accept my apologies for addressing problems much too vulgar for the public eye.
For challenging the fact that one raise of their hand can so easily dismiss my words.
For not finding the lack of uniformity in my opinions to be a threat.
Allow me, just for a moment, to apologize to the children of our country and hold hope they might forgive me.
Despite the fact that they reside in a world where one person’s entitlement can infringe on every principle that forges our freedom.
Georgia Hope writes queer fantasy with a southern gothic twist and essays that break down the turbulent relationship between adolescence and academia. Currently a high school senior in the state of Texas, her idea of a good time is exploring haunted small towns with a notebook, camera, and a large cup of iced coffee. When she’s not making her readers cry you can find her gathering more bizarre lore for her next story or having an existential crisis on her instagram page @georgiainabook.
Featured image by Renan Kamikoga on Unsplash.
