it’s not as cold anymore. i wake up and drink my coffee in dark. i like the early mornings. the sun goes up before i leave, freshness is in the air. busy days. going to school is not such a burden anymore. not when we study african american history, not when the lessons seem to be shorter than usually because i simply like my subjects, not when there are people i feel i can talk to.
things are easier. time passes by there’s less time than before. there’s always less time than before. but days go by quickly. i don’t even look at the clock anymore. i don’t need to.
i flow with the time.
it was strange to see all the people again. everyone seems to be taller. everyone came back with a tan and whiter teeth. but that’s only illusion of the contrast to their skins. most of them were shopping and tanning and going to the beaches, themes parks and went to even more shopping malls afterwards. and where do i fit again? i was glad to see my friends, though.
i’ve been given most of the textbooks. english, business, history, biology, mathematics, first lesson of chinese tomorrow. everything else will be the same. classes, lunch, classes, laughs, more classes and piles and piles of text to read and study. it feels a little different, because now we are seniors. in less than 24 months it will be all over. i’m not so sure i am looking forward to the end anymore.
it was a good first day.
i try to write but it seems as if the words only disappear into the darkness. before i am able to grasp their meaning, understand what i am trying to say, what the words are trying to tell me. when i am writing i feel as if i am already receiving feedback of some kind because the sentences just bounce right back to me telling me whether they sound wrong or just truthful. because that’s what the problem is. wrong vs. truthful. there are only two ways, in which i am able to write anything at all. in a wrong way, where every words seems to be an extra and not fitting into the story or it’s simply a truthful reflection of my thoughts, which is something i am often not able to take and let it slip into the real world where anybody can read whatever i put up. and so i avoid the confrontation completely.
i turn to other worlds instead. i turn to a world, in which i find consolation. recently i’ve (re)discovered the beauty of the french cinema and french culture in general. sebastienne, thank you for that gift. i am turning to cinema, to art and literature, harlem renaissance. anything, anything at all, just to take my mind off the fact that beginning tomorrow things will change. it sounds very dramatic, but it’s not. i’ve only decided to take some control over things, which i can control. there are many steps to be taken and even more steps to be build in order to be taken. but i am looking forward to it, in a way, because i’ve gained a new perspective on things. i am not sure whether it happened somewhere in the middle of the dreamers or half way through human traces. it doesn’t matter. the only thing that matters is the fact that i am willing to move forward. it still feels stiff but it feels good. it’s time to start licking envelopes.