While I have been studying, procrastinating, but mostly procrastinating in several variations of library, many have been folding clothes neurotically, throwing out junk acquired through random school-sponsored events, burning statistic books, taping boxes shut, and sealing their first year of college with suppressed tears and reluctant goodbyes.
A sense of finality is established as the door is shut and the key (that you probably lost or left at some random frat a number of times throughout the year) is slipped between the centimeter separating the door and dirty college dorm carpet. The last snapshot in your mind of the place you called home for the last 9 months perhaps brings with it a flood of fond, not-so-long ago memories.
The first time you sucked it up and spoke to the freak who found herself magnetically attracted to the floor. or the girl lying under a tye-dye blanket, only introducing her(intoxicated)self after popping her head out from beneath in a turtle-like fashion. or the boy whose first words to you were "is it ok if i take of my shirt really quickly" and somehow ended up being your best friend and support system.
the nights of sloppily stumbling back home from frat parties (that you waited in line for absurd amounts of time to get into) only to ask your friends what they remembered the next morning over brunch, in order to piece together the crazy antics of your hallmates, are over.
the first snow has melted, the initial innocence dissipated, and the you you knew has been upgraded (or maybe downgraded, considering the obscene amounts of unhealthy beverages consumed).
Your last nine months have been characterized by shots, of espresso and classy Svedka. but those shots have been consumed alongside your new family. the family YOU get to choose, you friends.
so now you go back into the real world for 3 months, a different person, alone. without your crew.
some of us go back to the familiar, to discover for themselves the way they have changed. perhaps a small bubble in Connecticut to find that pining for acceptance is unnecessary, that being worried that people won't love you for who you are is pointless, because the right people, the one's who smile when hearing your repetitive drunk phrase for the night, may not be wearing Lily Pullitzer, may be hippies or Jews, may not reside in Stepford, CT, but exist nonetheless.
some of us don't have a far trek home at all, maybe the townies have the trickiest task. because their reality and paradise are separated by a very fine line. perhaps their struggle is the worst, how do you notice a change in yourself, without having a standard of comparison?
and then, there are some who find themselves stepping in unfamiliar territory, voluntarily. leaving the past in the past. and moving forward.
haha, so serious a talk, what a sharp contrast, im getting my ideas straightened out in my head, and behind me there is a cute asian lying on the floor, her boyfriend laughing, and loads of social psychology waiting for me to memorize it.
anywho.
babes was right.
running away is not moving forward, but sometimes moving forward means running away.
running? fuck, i feel like I'm sprinting.
sprinting when everyone else has started their cool down.
you know what else, there is no time to look back right now, i'll lose speed.
if you're in the cool-down, if you're walking, drifting, hell if you're sitting, breathe and enjoy it. , you'll have your time to sprint, ill have my time to drift.
move forward.
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