Sophomore soliloquies

Part 45: Processing

11:39 4/23/2024
Processing

I think I might've been a bit premature
In stating I was over it
I think I was a tad immature
For this made up war
In refusing to process my emotions

So I'm taking a minute to cry myself to sleep
Take my favorite cat stuffed animal and give it the biggest squeeze
Cause genuine hugs don't often come by me
I think I need to heal some more before I can let someone love me
I think I need to process some more before I can genuinely hug me
And I think that I've got a lot to learn and that every open door is another left turn
Into a hallway that I can't quite discern
it's dusty and creaky and smells like old shoes
Memories in the back of my closet that I never use
I can't look back without tears falling down
But I think I might be ready now

In order to move on from life's day to day crises
I have to be able to let it drip down, in splices
To let the emotions topple over me
And once I can cry
Through the prism of the tear drops I'll Finally see the sky
A clearer pathway
Through this dusty creaky hallway
With closed doors waiting to open
Of new opportunities. Moving my way
Maybe a sunroom
Or maybe the roof
Until I open a new door
I won't have any proof
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Spring sun

I think I was right. That my favorite seasons change each year. With last year being fall and winter and this year being spring and summer
I think my grandma was right.
In the spring she says they have a pregnant glow
That the leaves are a vivacious shade of green that only happens once a year and the sun shines through and the flowers start to bloom and the next day when it's cold I check and Thier bundled up good
It's spring.
And it's a silly thing
And things change
And the moons full
And friends fall apart
And together your pulled
And the trees are pregnant
The leaves a vivacious shade
And you leave your memories to freeze in the
Allergies. Moments you shave away
Lighter and wiser you spread your wings
You prepare the present and future in spring.
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5:34 4/28/2024
Final

I'm supposed to be doing my homework
And I'm sitting in the library
I'm supposed to be doing my homework
As I melt into my oversized hoodie
I'm supposed to be writing a paragraph
While I snack and think about life
How to prepare for a future you don't know
I'd rather just live my life
I'm supposed to be doing my final
As I draw little pictures inside of my notebook
I send a picture to my friends of my keyboard
The clock ticks again and I'm cooked

I'm supposed to be crafting an essay on feminism it's goods it's bads it's effect

Yet here I am a bad example
Letting my education fall through the cracks
Procrastination
Sitting in the booth
Next to the charger
No one sitting next to you
Some people have left
Some people have stayed
Just gotta finish this final
I'll be on my way
Where too?
I don't know
Will I know when I get there and if how so?
Friends and hugs and benefits and love and drama and singing and showers and bling I'll leave behind the college booze the late night work the dirty frat shoes and make my way for something new
The sunrise of summer awaits with news
So what am I doing here putting it all off?
In the bottom of bird library writing like a reviewer for letterbox
I'm supposed to be doing my final
But when all is said and done
What does this all mean?
Will it matter? Was it fun?
And I living my life on a path that I want?
Or should I sit down like these other robots and never talk
Just type and type until my hands are bound
Droning on to the songs of echoing walks
Is this a rebellion
Or is this just life
Is this a bigger test than I even realize
Or am I just writing a poem. Mind spinning on and on like a scratched vynal
I'm sitting in the library
Trying to finish my final.
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