A/N: In short, the reasons I sometimes wish I had a Drake in my life.
Sometimes
I always wanted to do well for myself, always wanted to write a bestselling novel or graduate as valedictorian or cure some kind of terminal disease. Everybody has always said I have it in me, and I always believed them.
I always got straight A's, brushed my teeth before my nine o'clock bedtime, helped Dad with whatever he needed, whether or not I really wanted to.
I always listened to adults, submitted to their pressure but stayed away from drugs and alcohol and the foolish inclinations of my peers.
I always paid attention in class, did my homework, and showed up on time.
I always kept my opinions to myself and let others pull my puppet strings.
And then I met Drake, and Drake always did the exact opposite.
I still want to do good things. It's not that I've changed in some major way. At least, it doesn't feel like I have. It's just, all those things I always did . . . Sometimes, they don't seem quite as important as they used to.
Sometimes, I think I only wanted what everyone else expected of me.
Sometimes, I feel like everyone is pushing me in toward myself, making me feel so claustrophobic, so trapped and pressured that I'll explode if someone asks me one more time, "So, where are you going to college?"
Sometimes, I need a break from studying and planning and being told how to live and what to do.
Sometimes, I just want to slouch into the cushions of the couch with a Mocha Cola and Drake at my side and pretend that he and I are the only people on Earth and that we can do whatever we want for the rest of our lives.
Sometimes, anticipating college is just too much.
Sometimes, I wish I had underachieved all my life, like Drake, that way no one's expectations would exceed my capabilities.
Sometimes, I think I'm just procrastinating because I'm scared of the big, bad world, of growing up, of leaving my underachieving brother behind.
Sometimes, I am afraid. I'm afraid of letting everyone down if I mess up just once or don't make it into the college of my dreams or don't get that important scholarship.
Sometimes, I hate my teachers, my boss, my parents, my friends, because they're all just itching to see me succeed.
Sometimes, I thank the lord that I have Drake because he's the one who'll come into our room and tell me to stop worrying, to take a load off and watch TV with him, who'll sit down next to me at our desk when I'm filling out a scholarship application and say he doesn't mind if I don't go to Harvard or Yale, that he doesn't even want me to go.
Sometimes, he'll drop everything he's doing, walk over, and wrap his arms around me, whispering promises that I could never let him down, no matter how the future plays out.
Sometimes, I even believe him.