With the knowledge that your time is fleeting, what second do you choose as your last? Are you remembering the hue of the sky, or obsessing over what you know you might forget at your last family dinner? You realize you're archiving the details of their faces and you're too busy reminiscing this moment to focus on reality. These moments will plague you, because it won't be a postcard that will imitate how bright the sky was when you left. In your last moment staring at the people who have filled your soul, you will wonder about your significance and if you affected them as they did you. You will wonder if they will stay on the path with your memory of them. You already loathe the changes you will miss when you are gone.
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A road trip or flight approaches and you dread the homesickness that hasn't even seeped in yet. Cornfields pass and you will never get there fast enough. It seems your classmates are already settled in, acting like old buddies and it's not even check in yet! Nothing will explain the prolonged panic every second you forget to pack or buy something(probably useless) that you think you'll need in a few weeks.
But, what is liberating and unsettling is that you have been preparing for a million days moments that are days away. These moments will determine, set the pace, and catapult your life. You are bait for a catapult, being ripped from the arms of familiarity, the arms of reason. What scares you is how quickly you can mess things up just by your own mind and actions. You fear the mistakes caused by fear.
We share the potential of greatness, and inhibiting fears, but its the details that makes us different. We are released from our childhood like waves back to the sea. We'll move at different paces, some will be stationary, nevertheless we'll change for the better and for the worst. What matters is not where you'll end up, but the steps taken to get there. What will you do next?
With the hectic registration out of our systems, we itched to be apart of our families and our earlier lives. Imagine holding a pack of wolves from a slab of meat, it is like trying to tame the liberated creatures we are. When we were released, airborne fervor blossomed within us and transfered to the people we approach.
Our teachers and faculty were infected before we even spoke. A restless electricity surrounds us like static clinging on to our clothes, sparks igniting when we speak. Our schedules are littered with each other and we have free time we can't even tame ourselves. With the prosperity we are experiencing, it is hard to consider the defaced world that holds us. There is an overwhelming hope that when we are released back into the world, this fervor will follow us and we will heal the world; and when I speak to these people, I'm sure of it.
