The Safety Dance

Exam Week.

The

Worst week of the year,

Until Finals Week comes around.

The

Worst

Week.

Hours upon hours of studying,

Until you either

A) Spontaneously combust due to information overload, and then die.

B) Start mumbling general nonsense like "THE SQUARE ROOT OF ANDREW JOHNSON IS PROTON!" And then die.

or

C) Study until your brains fall out, proceed to mindlessly take your exams

And then party like never before on the homework-free, three-day weekend.

I'm hoping for option C.

So far, it's all option B.

Only, I didn't really say that the square root of Andrew Johnson was proton.

Close,

But no cigar.

I have studied compulsively,

Obsessively,

As though my very life depended on it.

On passing these exams.

That mean nothing to my life.

And why do I continually murder myself over these silly, wasteful tests?

What else is there to do?

What else does school allow me to do?

Other than quiz me over a lot of trivial facts that I will never remember in future years?

Sure,

It's helpful to know

That Andrew Jackson was a crappy president,

Spiffy genetics stuff,

And smart-sounding vocab words.

But these aren't the most important things in the world.

And I should be studying right now.

I should be absorbing information via osmosis.

Sucking it up like a human sponge.

...

Also.

A two week writing camp on a pretty splendid college campus?

Sounds like a dream come true.

A $2,257 writing camp?

Not so much.

Alas, I am not made of money.

I have no job.

I have to babysit my dork brother

All summer.

Five days a week.

My parents totally wrote me off.

The entire idea

Of going to a camp.

To write.

And being the people we are,

Financial aid?

Out of the question.

$2,257?

Out of the question.

Leaving my house during the summer?

So out of bounds.

Give in to my love of poetry?

Pfft, no way, man.

So overall,

No.

No, I will not go to a writing camp.

No, I will just stay here,

In my little box of limited ideas,

And live out my little life.

And I will try my best to not be disappointed after this moment in time.

I don't want to dwell on all these things that I cannot do.

"There's no point standing in the past, 'cuz it's over and done."

And so we all move a little bit forward.

In our lives that have become someone's else's.

And I will try to study a little bit more,

And go to bed.

And not be filled with

A sense of disappointment.

Because nothing seems to be mine anymore.

Not my life.

Not my thoughts.

Not my words.

They are all

Someone

Else's.

And no matter how selfish it is,

It doesn't make it any less true.