Adultolescence Read online

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  for all the kids who grew up too fast,

  all the adults who refuse to grow up,

  and everyone who’s both.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  As much as I’d just love to take all the credit for this book, there are a lot of people who had a hand in making this dream come to life.

  To Shane Dawson: Thank you for pushing me to stop putting this off and just start writing. You inspire and encourage me in so many ways. Mostly, thank you for putting me in touch with a great publishing team with a glowing recommendation. Real friends lie for each other.

  To Jhanteigh Kupihea: Thank you for dealing with my anxiety, my unbearable pickiness, and my four-in-a-row-ten-word emails that I could have easily sent in one. Also, for constantly [trying to] calm my neuroticism. You are my editor and my therapist. You are my Edapist. Oh, and thanks for never making me say your last name out loud.

  To Judith Curr: Thank you for believing in my vision, like, literally immediately. It was a hell of a lot faster than I did.

  To Ariele Friedman: Thank you for doing publicist-y things that somehow tricked people into thinking I was somebody important-ish.

  To my siblings: Cherisa, Monica, Cecilia, Genevieve, Madelynn, and Sammy. Thank you for being my siblings. I love you and stuff.

  To everyone who I relentlessly sent slews of poems and drawings to over the past few months begging for opinions, encouragement, and validation. Thank you and I’m sorry.

  To all of my supporters and followers: Thank you for standing by me through the years. You were there when I was sad-tweeting limericks at 5 a.m. and telling me to write a poetry book. You were the ones that were buying and supporting before it even came out. You are the reason for not only this book, but my entire existence. I am so overwhelmed with your love and I return it eleven-fold.

  And lastly: To everyone who tore my heart out. I owe you one.

  AUTHOR NOTE

  this book was inspired by bo burnham

  who was inspired by shel silverstein

  so i suppose by the transitive property

  this book is inspired by shel silverstein

  which i’m cool with because he’s dope.

  UNEXPECTED

  ladies and gentlemen,

  come have a look!

  here at last,

  another youtuber book!

  just what we needed!

  someone to produce

  the tangible ego of

  a twenty-something douche.

  SLEEP

  RECESS

  jacob and emily sitting in a tree

  K-I-S-S-I-N-G

  first came love

  then came marriage

  then came a stale & empty life

  as a result of the societal pressures

  to wed which led

  to a semi-public affair and a severe

  case of alcoholism

  mixed with mental illness

  followed by a grueling 2-year divorce

  that damaged the kids emotionally

  and left everyone without

  a sense of direction or self-worth

  O-POSITIVE

  i donated blood today.

  feels good to finally be somebody’s type.

  ADVICE 14

  when i was a kid my biggest fear was getting lost in

  space & it turns out maybe i shouldnt have been so

  stressed about that bc i dont have a spaceship so dont

  make problems where there arent any

  BFF

  Lonely’s been my bestest friend

  for as long as i remember.

  he gets a little clingy,

  especially mid-to-late december.

  but Lonely’s alway been there

  every single time i’ve cried.

  through all the downs and heartaches,

  he’s never left my side.

  even when i hide away

  where no one else can see me,

  Lonely is my bestest friend

  ’cause Lonely never leaves me.

  POUT

  ADVICE 10

  when i was little i was the only person who couldnt do

  a cartwheel bc i was 2 scared so i tried & tried & guess

  wut i still cant do a cartwheel but i gave it my best

  shot & it’s ok to fail as long as u try

  STICKS

  you’re a dimwit, a nitwit,

  a halfwit and a dipshit.

  a peon, a moron,

  an utter bore and yawn!

  imbecile! ignoramus!

  vile, yucky, heinous!

  a nincompoop, a ninny,

  and absolutely cringey.

  you’re a roly-poly fatty from all the things you’ve eaten.

  you’re a jackass, an asshat, a nutcase, and a cretin.

  numbskull, twerp, jack-off, pleb,

  dunce, dweeb, dunderhead,

  bozo, dork, buffoon, flop,

  stupid, smelly, useless mop.

  hold on, wait, i’m not the type

  to call someone a dummy!

  to whom could i ever speak this way?!

  oh crap, i’m talking to me.

  BEST

  everyone tells me i deserve better.

  i know i deserve better.

  but i don’t want better.

  i want you.

  HIDE

  everyone’s asking if i’m feeling okay.

  the truth is i’m always feeling this way.

  i’m just having a hard time disguising it today.

  INSPIRED

  the next poem you’re about to read

  is because it suddenly came to me.

  i hopped out of the shower soaking wet

  to write it down before i could forget.

  so i really hope you like it

  ’cause i just lost my security deposit

  when i drenched my brand-new carpet

  so you could read it and think “fam, this is lit!”

  hope the next page was worth the compromise

  of shampoo running into my eyes.

  STRANGER

  he asked, can i kiss you?

  she replied,

  i don’t know you that well.

  he asked her favorite color.

  come on, she said, you can do better.

  so he took it to heart and better he did;

  he learned about what she was like as a kid.

  he listened to her friends, oh, the stories they’d tell!

  he talked to her demons and learned them as well.

  he became her diary the way he would hold

  ever so dearly the secrets she told.

  he knew all the anguish she buried inside.

  he’d seen all her scars and the thoughts they implied.

  but after a while he stopped asking questions

  and forgot the details she’d previously mentioned.

  as time went on, the distance grew

  and she found a stranger in the person she knew.

  so the day came, as it does so often,

  that their love was laid to rest in a coffin.

  as they choked on goodbye, though the bond had been broken,

  he wanted to leave her with one parting token.

  he asked, can i kiss you?

  she replied,

  i don’t know you that well.
r />   HAPPY

  every time i try to write a silly poem

  it turns out incredibly sad.

  FASHION

  i’ve always worn my heart on my sleeve

  and my feelings on my face.

  you, without a doubt, could read

  my mood in any case.

  glad, mad, sad, or scared,

  it wasn’t hard to guess—

  some only wear their emotions to bed,

  but mine were my sunday best.

  then people started critiquing my style

  and criticizing my taste,

  so, due to public opinion,

  my revealing outfits were replaced.

  they’d always been my fashion choice

  but i needed to make a swap.

  i’ve always worn my heart on my sleeve,

  but now i prefer tank tops.

  RELATIVE

  time

  is relative.

  beauty

  is relative.

  family

  is relatives.

  IRON

  when i was young

  my mom used to check if the iron was hot

  by touching it,

  and, i don’t know,

  i just feel like there’s

  a metaphor in there somewhere.

  ANXIETY

  there isn’t a cause that you could explain,

  but i’ll claw my way in like a cat in the rain.

  i don’t pretend to make much sense,

  but i’ll twist up your nerves like a barbed-wire fence.

  if you find yourself without a qualm,

  i’ll send chills up your spine with my icy palm.

  although your whole to-do list is ticked,

  i’ll set fire to your cheeks like a match to a wick.

  no matter the time or the month or the season,

  i’ll ruin your day without rhyme or reason.

  STOP

  you gave up

  when i wanted to fight.

  you insisted

  that the future was gone,

  you insisted

  that you drive me home,

  and the whole way

  i prayed for a red light.

  ADVICE 4

  for 25 years i told myself i couldnt do a single push-up

  & now i can do 4 push-ups so dont doubt urself believe

  in urself u can do anything

  LOTION

  have you ever received a gift

  that was placed inside of a box

  that was recycled from another,

  much more intriguing present?

  like, you pull back the pretty paper

  and you see iPad packaging,

  but then you open the lid,

  and inside is a lotion set?

  i meet a lot of people like that.

  exciting outside, disappointing inside.

  don’t be lotion.

  BELT

  even though i went to an inner-city public school,

  we had a pretty strict dress code.

  we had to wear our shirts tucked into our pants with a belt,

  and only in about four different colors.

  one day, i came to class with my new pants

  that i couldn’t wait to wear!

  they came with a cool striped belt that matched our school colors.

  before the bell even rang in home room, a boy pointed

  and loudly said,

  “YOU BOUGHT THOSE PANTS AT WALMART.”

  until that moment, i didn’t realize that shopping at walmart

  was something to be ashamed of.

  [spoiler: it’s not]

  then another girl chimed in and together,

  they mocked me until the bell rang.

  i never wore that belt again.

  a few days later, i noticed the girl who chimed in so urgently

  was wearing the same belt. and the same pants.

  i stared at them for a moment, then looked up at her face.

  she quickly averted her eyes and crossed her arms

  in front of her lap to hide the colored stripes.

  i never said anything about it, but it perplexed me that she

  would be so quick to chime in to make fun of that belt.

  bullies are the most insecure people on the planet.

  YOU

  don’t worry about who you “should be”;

  you don’t need to be ashamed.

  you’re perfect in the way that no one’s perfect.

  it’s okay to not be okay.

  PHILOSOPHY

  if you eat an entire pizza by yourself in the woods,

  and no one’s around to see it,

  do the calories count?

  LOST

  the truth is that i lost you;

  that doesn’t mean you’re gone.

  when i was small i lost my doll,

  but retrieved it from lost and found.

  one time my pet dog ran away

  then found his way back home.

  i once was lost in a shopping mall

  and, though i felt alone,

  i knew my dad would find me

  just like he always did.

  so “lost” just means “keep looking”

  is what i learned as a kid.

  “where’d you see it last”

  is what my mom would always say,

  so i’d retrace my steps

  and i’d un-lose my stuff that way.

  so, yes, i guess i lost you—

  but i’ll just keep on trying

  to remember where i left you

  so i can quit this crying.

  SMILE

  the thing about a smile is it can make somebody’s day.

  a plain grin to a stranger can melt their cares away.

  sadness, sorrow, mourning, heartbreak, hopelessness and grief

  can all be blithely wiped away with a simple flash of teeth.

  a really shitty, stupid, boring day is all worthwhile

  if at the very end you were rewarded with a smile.

  if you parade your row of ivories just a bit more often

  the rough edges of someone’s day just might begin to soften.

  if more people swore to show their pretty pearly whites

  i’d bet my bottom dollar you could minimize the fights.

  so go ahead! wear your smirk all day and wear it proud!

  wear it happy, wear it big, wear it long and loud!

  stretch your mouth out to your ears until your cheeks are shaking!

  i don’t care if all that beaming means your face is breaking!

  sew your lips to your gums so you never quit your simper!

  i don’t wanna hear a gripe, not a single whimper!

  the thing about a frown is it can ruin someone’s day

  just one glance of disapproval can melt your joy away.

  gladness, laughter, pleasure, humor, cheerfulness and glee

  can all be wistfully wiped away with a smile’s absentee.

  a really happy, sunny, funny day can be destroyed

  if at the very end you find a grimace is employed.

  if you promenade around with a healthy, hearty scowl

  even the most pleasant day can start to feel quite foul.

  if more people started wearing grief upon their lips

  there’d be enough antipathy to sink the mightiest ships.

  so don’t you dare! just wipe that gloom right off your ugly mouth!

  turn the corners upwards, don’t let them travel south!

  SMILE, beautiful, don’t be selfish! come on, don’t you know?

  you’re never under any fate to let your feelings show!

  don’t furrow your brow or scrunch your face all up in a bundle!

  i don’t want to hear complaints, don’t let the grumbles rumble!

  the thing about a smile is it’s not too hard to fake it.

  so i’ll never let you make my day, for fear that you might break it.<
br />
  DREAMS

  FLUENT

  as of late, since this book deal, i speak in strictly poetry.

  my sentences are metered and heroic couplets flow freely.

  every minuscule moment is a latent free-form verse;

  my hyperbole or imagery, i’m not sure which is worse.

  every brute or object is a potential metaphor;

  my art form is heartache peppered with delusions of grandeur.

  silly similes slip off my tongue to an insufferable degree.

  each turn i take to talk is an ostentatious soliloquy.

  dousing my friends in leaden pretension is something i do fear;

  i wish that i could take a break, but my deadline’s growing near.

  CONCEALER

  i wear makeup because i have acne.

  i have acne because i wear makeup.

  ADVICE 1

  when i was younger girls asked “does this make my

  butt look big” in like a concerned way & now girls

  ask “does my butt look big” in an excited way so dont

  worry ur butt will be trendy some day

  STUNTED

  why is it that

  i cry when i’m angry,

  and fight when i’m sad?

  i laugh when i’m uneasy,

  and stifle giggles when i’m glad?

  i’m silent when i’m scared,

  but speak when i’m unsure?

  i’m emotionally impaired

  and viscerally immature.

  METAPHOR

  am i crazy, [rhetorical question]

  or does it seem that

  you can use your phone as a coaster,