Like wearing a shirt that doesn't quite fit anymore.
I have three papers to write for the rest of my undergraduate career. Three piddly papers. And every time I sit down to research or put things together, even just thinking about anything academic, my brain automatically presses itself shut like the mouth of a stubborn baby who won't eat its cheerios. And then it screams "what's the use?? if you haven't learned it yet, you're not going to!" and all I want to do is run off to a festival or a ship or take a train somewhere.
With exactly one month left, I feel like I'm just here for posterity now. Out of respect for technicalities. Or something.
Though I am giving a poetry reading tonight. That's something.
And on the 1st of April they're (friends and comrades) roasting me at my favourite bar. That's amusing too.
But I still look around my room and imagine how I'm going to pack everything. I look at my stack of empty copy-paper boxes and imagine them full and taped and the room an empty tiffany-blue capsule, like an advil gelcap, or a vacant robin's egg.
I'm ready to leave here. I'm ready to ride my bike to my awesome job and try to forget that I've fallen in love and that I should be going to graduate school.
Limbo.
With exactly one month left, I feel like I'm just here for posterity now. Out of respect for technicalities. Or something.
Though I am giving a poetry reading tonight. That's something.
And on the 1st of April they're (friends and comrades) roasting me at my favourite bar. That's amusing too.
But I still look around my room and imagine how I'm going to pack everything. I look at my stack of empty copy-paper boxes and imagine them full and taped and the room an empty tiffany-blue capsule, like an advil gelcap, or a vacant robin's egg.
I'm ready to leave here. I'm ready to ride my bike to my awesome job and try to forget that I've fallen in love and that I should be going to graduate school.
Limbo.