Smeagol is Free!
A hermitudinal view of...stuff...


Waking Up

When I first got here in January '03, it seemed I saw life through tears. Mornings were the worst: in the moments before dawn, dreams take you wherever you want to go, but when wakefulness comes, dreams are crushed under the weight of reality. So it was that first semester. Something or someone was holding my heart captive, or at the very least, it seemed, was sitting on it. Not a minute went by where I didn't think of home. Every breath here was subject to comparison, unfairly weighed and measured, always found lacking. In many ways, that hasn't changed. Every breath is still subject to comparison, everything is still weighed and measured, but now, I'm much more unbiased when I say that I always find things here lacking.

Just kidding.

When I was talking to Sarah the other night, mentioning the possibility of going home for Christmas, she pointed out it would be the first Christmas at home since I first came here. At that particular moment, I'd forgotten that wretched fact, but she was right. I jokingly said that I didn't know what Christmases at home were like anymore. All jokes aside, it's still kind of true. There are worse things in life, and I'm not complaining, but still, I'd like to be able to hold Kavin, Zayne, Makana, and that little baby Mary's hiding, whatever it'll be named. I'd love to hear one of the little rugrats laughing, crying, or even yelling at me for attention. You know, that'd be a great way to wake up.

posted by Bolo | 6:57 AM
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