sometimes i imagine myself in those photos 
you know, of the people i once knew 
and who knew me too 
i imagine where i would fit in, where i would be standing  
what we’re all laughing at 
if i had stayed 
if i had trusted the process of everything working out 
if i had done everything differently 
i wonder if i would even be friends with them 
if it would be worth it 
would i be happier? 
would i be prettier, or smarter? 
would i be insecure? 
i think about everything i left behind 
just to move forward and find nothing  
i wonder if somewhere there is a purpose 
or if it’s too late to go back 
is it too late to go back? 
to turn back the clock and keep walking through the molasses that growing up sticks you in i wonder if i’m still walking 
just in another direction? 
or was i picked up and moved backwards 
am i still in the molasses? 
am i still walking? 
do i have a choice? 
did i ever have a choice? 
do the decisions i make have any control over the outcome or am i just swimming in an infinity  pool of molasses? 
i stare at those photos 
of me not there 
thinking about if any of them wonder 
what it would be like if i was there 
but i know they don’t 
because they’re happy 
and i wouldn’t think about that either 
if i was happy too 
but maybe they’re just better at pretending 
maybe they think i’m happy too 
maybe they wonder who i’m standing next to in the pictures 
what i’m laughing at 
maybe we’re all stuck in the molasses  
wondering what the point of everything is
praying that the saying is true and that everything happens for a reason and god i hope that’s true 
because sometimes i wonder if it’s worse than molasses  a feeling that never passes 
what if i’m stuck in glue