The same crosswalk.

I’ve lived in the same dormitory for three years. I walk the same paths to get to my classes, to go to lunch, dinner, everything. My dorm is across campus so I have to walk across the street to get on campus.

There’s this cross walk that everyone uses that lives in the same dormitory as I do to get where they need to go. You simply press a button and the lights turn red, signaling the cars to stop so that pedestrians may cross the street safely.

I’ve used it over, and over, and over. There are times where I’m crossing and a car is just barely coming to a stop as I’m crossing the street. I would always think, “Wow, that dumb car barely stopped in time to not run over me.” but now it’s more like I notice that the car had almost hit me but I don’t really feel any particular way about it. I just continue my strides to the other side of the street and go about my day. Three years ago, that would of probably terrified me. Now I’m at the point to where I’m almost curious as to what it would be like if that car hadn’t stopped in time and actually did hit me.

It’s not that I would purposely be careless while walking across the street to get run over, of course not. But if I’m being careful, which I always am, and a care happens to hit because of their reckless driving, then by all means.

You live in the same place for years, have the same routine, go through the same paths, see the same people over and over again. But then you cross that cross walk and think, what would getting hit by a car do to me that hasn’t already happened to me before?

End it all with out any more worries, stress, or heavy responsibilities?

You live the same life over and over, you’ve visited all hurt, fear, disappointment, and anxiety before numerous times that nothing really makes you feel anything anymore.

So then I lay on my bed, wondering and thinking, all the years I’ve lived here, all the things I went through being here that I never want to revisit again, what I’ve accomplished, what’s still unfinished, and everything else that lies ahead of me, that maybe that crosswalk gives me some sort of relief.

“So what’s college like?”

“It’s sort of like you’re being eaten alive, but no matter how much you want the pain to hurry and finish you up, you’re left there to suffer and take all the damage that was given to you. You meant figuratively speaking, right?”

“Sure?”

On the edge.

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Enough Is Enough.”

When was the last time you were ready to throw in the proverbial towel? Did you end up letting go, or decided to fight on anyway?

Letting go isn’t as easy as you think it is. It has always been incredibly hard for me to just simply let go and give up than it is to press on and keep trying.

I’m a junior in college and I’m very close to graduating. About another year or so. I’ve been through all kinds of obstacles, financial hardships, and breakdowns throughout my years here and I always think, why am I doing this? why don’t I just give up before I break completely and save myself now?

A year ago I was at my ends meet. I honestly couldn’t take anymore and didn’t want to take any more. My grades were dropping in 3 out of my 5 classes, those 3 being the more “important” classes due to them being degree requirements. I was so scared of failing, so scared of falling into this pit that I couldn’t dig myself out of.

I was studying for two exams one night, both were equally important and also equally challenging. At around two in the morning I felt like I couldn’t study anymore, I couldn’t process anymore information even if I wanted to. I was too overwhelmed and anxious about the upcoming exams, fearing every second that ticked to its time. I left my dorm and walked outside. It was very cold at the time but that didn’t bother me in the slightest in that moment of revelation. I sat on a bench and thought about what my next possible “move” is going to be. The only thing that swept through my mind, the only option and easiest way out I could think of was walking back up to my room, pack my bags, and leave for home for good. 

But what happened in reality? I went back, re-opened my books and began studying through what seemed like an endless night. Those thoughts chased me but I really just couldn’t actually do it. I’ve worked hard and then to just give up when I’m so close to the end? I can’t do it. Even though I so desperately want to end all of it with just a snap of my fingers, I’m still here. Still trying, still holding on to whatever is keeping me from falling.

Pencil Pusher.

I remember when I was in Pre-K my uncle would sometimes come and pick me up from school. We’d have to sit outside our classroom in the hall way and wait for our parents or whoever was designated to pick you up at about noon.

My uncle was in his early twenties at the time, still a very young individual. I’d see him make his way towards my classroom, wearing baggy jeans and a flannel shirt that was one or two sizes too big. He’d take my hand as we walked across the hall to exit the school while all the remaining children watched as I took my leave.

There was this pencil machine in the middle of the hallway that I liked very much. You would put fifty cents in it and push and pull this metal piece where the coins are placed and out pops a pencil. I found it very fascinating because the pencils came in all different prints and colors and you never got the same pencil twice. It essentially was an endless pit of amusing pencils that you could use.

I always wanted one. I’d see other kids buying them and I’d get excited for them because you didn’t know what pencil you were getting and I’d see the pencil that pushed out of the machine and say something like “I want one too!” but I never had the money for it. I didn’t have the privilege of owning an “extravagant” pencil.

My uncle and I walk down the hall and I look at the pencil machine. About three kids were already in line to buy a pencil. I wanted to see what pencils they got so I lingered a bit more which caused my uncle to look at me. He saw me watching the other kids buying their pencils. He reaches into his pocket, pulls out fifty cents and gives it to me so I too can buy a pencil.

I was ecstatic. I was so happy to have fifty cents in my hand, ready to put it in the machine. I inserted the coins, pushed then pulled them inside the receiver, and out came my pencil. It was decorated with I believe fifty dollar bills. I called it the money pencil. I really liked it, it was by far the neatest pencil I had ever seen.

Every time my uncle would pick me up from school, he’d always give me fifty cents for me to buy a pencil. It made me happy and I think it made him happy too.

Happy Holidays, Where’s the Tylenol?

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Getting Seasonal.”

The holiday season: can’t get enough of it, or can’t wait for it all to be over already? Has your attitude toward the end-of-year holidays changed over the years?

When I was a kid of course I absolutely couldn’t wait for the holidays to come, Christmas was practically a count down to the best day in the world.

I got older, things were changing, my family was changing, and I was certainly changing. The so called “holiday joy” wasn’t exactly as joyous as I remembered it being. As the years went by I just expected less and less from every one.

I’m in college and I do still love the end of year holidays, with my long winter break after the semester how could I complain about it? It’s just that the holidays are less exciting. Christmas is just opening up a few gifts, eat some food, and that’s basically it. New year’s is stay up til midnight for the big event, wish everyone a happy new year with hugs, drink a little, and that’s it.

My family is kind of old I guess so we don’t expect to do so much. So mostly now, I guess you can say, it’s not the holidays that I can’t get enough of, it’s the relaxing break that I can’t get enough of.

Dreams pt. 2

I had this dream that I was at a library with one of my best friends. We were about to leave and then I see one of my ex best friends, which is also sort of my best friend’s ex best friend as well(there’s a little less tension between them two vs me) so then she comes in the library and immediately starts talking to my friend and then suddenly drags her away to some other place or store. I tried going in the place they were in, but my ex best friend wouldn’t let me in. I was talking through the door to her and I was saying somewhere between the lines of “why are you doing this? why do you hate me? I got over that argument that we had that cost us our friendship a long time ago and I already forgave you. I don’t hate you, I never did.” we were both yelling at each other through the door she wouldn’t let me in, she started turning red and soon she began to cry. My friend stood there watching her and then watched me to see what I was going to do next. I looked at her crying waiting for her to do something. She opens the door and goes up to me and asks me if I was serious, I said yes. She then says that she has questions and needs answers and I said I’ll give you all the answers you need. And after that she sort of hugged me. Soon after we all calmed down she started asking questions and I gave her the answers. She accepted them and I guess things were finally okay.

It was such a dramatic, emotional dream and it felt like one of the longest dreams I’ve ever had. I don’t know why I dream of these things, the ways things are with that ex best friend aren’t really anything and I don’t really think about her at all actually. And to dream that was just odd and surprising. Despite what’s happened between us, do I still want to be friends? yes. Does she? maybe not.