Last Call, #6

A new chapter is unfolding soon.

Damn.

Time flies by. In almost a month or so, I’ll be graduating from university. I swear I feel like the past three years were instant, an aberration, an anomaly in time and space.

All the greater plans are starting to unfold. So many hopes and dreams after this. I sure am waiting for the best.

It’s interesting having to think of it right now, how fruitful this whole experience was to me, and at the same time, I have this guttural feeling of how much it was a complete waste of time. I’m not sure whether to choose between any of the latter, maybe a bit of both. At this stage in my life, I sincerely believe that I didn’t accumulate enough knowledge. I used to always believe that getting an education was all about you know, getting ready for a job in the field you prefer in the future.

I’m realizing it’s a lot more than that. I grew as a person, and I had my ideas challenged, and ever changing, which is quite amazing considering the current state of academia, where any original or different ideas are being shut down. This is by far the biggest blessing in my opinion. Being told you can’t think that way, or you can’t adhere to a certain set of ideas, is the literal meaning of fascism, and with all the stories I’m hearing from friends, I am blessed indeed.
This upcoming month is destined to pass by quickly, and honestly, I can’t wait for it to be over, so I can start all over again.

Darkness

You never know what tomorrow holds.

The darkness on your face,
shines brightly,
and slowly evolves and grows,
into a glimmer
stuck in space.

All the light
and I can’t quite see it.
It goes past me,
with all its radiant might.

Run away with me tomorrow,
and jump into the darkness,
all away from the brights,
may it bestow on us
all what awaits,
awaits us tomorrow.

Perfect Mornings

Everyone loves them, no?

She sits in the same seat, every morning I start my day with looking at her. Her bag goes either on the floor, or the chair next to her. She positions herself, always glancing at the teacher, eyes screwed still onto him, taking everything in, deep into the lecture.

Me? I’m trying to sneak a glance at her every now and then. Blonde curly hair, with pink ends, luscious lips like I’ve never seen before, and a smile that never seems to fade away. I’m not sure why she’s always smiling, but I sure do like it. What I like most about her though is her eyes. They remind me of something I’ve never seen before, yet they still remind me of that thing I speak of, strange indeed.

I don’t know what sparked my interest. I’ve known her, for a while actually, but I never realized her childlike personality, and how in the same time, you can feel a sense of grit and toughness. To me, a woman with that particular combination is one ought to be fought for, like Hemingway on a hunting trip, killing every danger on his way.

It always amazes me, that sudden surge of thoughts and feelings towards someone you are familiar with, but never really appreciated their beauty and mind. She seems to be lost, not always sure, and very careful, which is all more attractive. Insecurities make a person, not perfections. I don’t care for one’s perfections, those are easy to tell and handle, but imperfections are what constitute a person, and what really makes them who they are.

She’s distant. I don’t think anything will happen, and I don’t think I will pursue anything with her. You know, don’t you think that sometimes it’s better that things be left the way they are? I’m scared I won’t have the same appreciation I have for her. A glimmer of hope and sparkle to my mornings, let’s leave it that way, shall we?

Holy

Holy you say?

Burning holes everywhere,
taking a plunge into nowhere.

Despair and lust,
leaving me chewed and through,
like scattered dust.

Thinking of you right now,
collapse again,
as I glisten and shine in the sun.

The holes getting bigger and holy,
a shrine for souls forgotten and abused,
by your holiness.

Struggle

Struggling is always fun!

Struggling and suffering,
trying to stay afloat.

Lying on my bed,
wishing I was on a boat,
stranded in the middle of the ocean
with the waves carrying my soulless soul,
deep down to the ground, into my final resting hole.

Seething with the mundane everyday,
adding to the wallowing misery at bay.

Facing the mirror,
obsolete, and full of demise and joy,
I prance around like a lunatic
waving to death,
who’s reluctant and coy.

‘Should I save him, or should I not’
‘Should I save him, or should I not’