couldn’t care more: a poem | savannah brown

sorry for the kinda poppy sound! i had my mic in my overall pocket and it didn’t work as well as i had hoped

become a patron:

l i n k s / /
my book/merch:
snapchat: @savannxhb

business enquiries can be sent to [email protected]


w o r d s / /
i was never cool. not me, not my
spent-my-middle-school-weekends-at-writing-tournaments ass,
too-big t-shirt tucked into bootcuts, puffy braces gums, dry lips lisp
loud and lanky and frankly real lonely
i felt so elsewhere, missed the memo;
like everyone else went right, but i was left
now stuck in a perpetual state of other

but then i tuned in. closed-mouth, switch-flip—
see, what i figured i was missing was indifference

they were always in view. impossible to reach, but still there
a thin scar of land, and me, a starving sailor: the too-cool-kids.
won’t get out of bed for less kids, cyanide eyes kids
they were smooth, stoic; where they went they floated
calculated pack-travelers excited by little and in love with less
but oh, i wanted them to be in love with me

me. excited by everything me.
obsessive personality me, what’s an indoor voice me
i listened close, tried to discern what language they were speaking
i could never roll my r’s
so i traded in my tongue for someone else’s
but then they all said i was trying too hard
anyway, i didn’t look like me anymore
i was not cool. i was never cool
to them, i was a cannonball to their stone throw
not in a romantic way, in a destructive way

see, the too-cool-kids were proof that
when you reveal what makes you tick,
it’s easy for you to crumble
when they know which brick topples the tower, they’ve got you
so what you do is you keep your voice level, unwavering
insist you’ve never savored anything
become practiced in passivity
after all it’s all the same to you, really
it’s nothing. insignificant. couldn’t care less

i wished i couldn’t care less
craved to couldn’t care less
case me up, beetle skin
i wondered what the world felt like
when it only brushed up against you
and didn’t make its home inside your belly
sweet sweet disconnect

maybe i just wanted to be respected
to be feared like them, revered like them
to be seen as someone worth interest, worth love
to be seen as someone who had it all figured out
but i’ll never have it all figured out
and neither, i learned, will the too-cool-kids

years of pins-and-needle-legs
trying to experience life at its most lukewarm
only to discover that we’re here too briefly to be tepid
when a lifetime is a blink
how you can you be content standing still until your eyes dry out?
that’s not what cool kids do anymore.
the cool kids love ferociously
stay up late because they want it just right
they are hungry for more and will not be silenced
the cool kids care about people. about poetry. about science. about art
they’re not embarrassed of the moments that make their nerves burn
the cool kids are not ashamed that they are different; they shout it
i got first place at one of those writing tournaments
i’m really proud of it

and if i could go back and change what i’ve done,
i’d tell myself it’s fine to feel all of it and then some
be an authority on appetite instead of apathy
find out that yeah, passion makes you vulnerable
but that’s sort of the point
we’re all trapped in our heads
and the cracks in our skin
are the only way we can let other people in
so do
nowadays i think that’s too cool


Fahad Hameed

Fahad Hashmi is one of the known Software Engineer and blogger likes to blog about design resources. He is passionate about collecting the awe-inspiring design tools, to help designers.He blogs only for Designers & Photographers.

31 thoughts on “couldn’t care more: a poem | savannah brown

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *