Thats 2,760 hours.
And I still can’t add up all the reasons you keep me around.
You spit out the pit from the cherry in your rum and coke.
I remember it specifically because it wound up in my chest.
And I know for a fact it’s there because I can feel it every time I see you walk out a door without me.
I know it’s there because the only time it disappears is when we make eye contact.
See I always thought I’d have to date a girl for 5 years before planning a life with her.
That’s 1,825 days
And 394,200,000 seconds
And it took 5 seconds and your eyes to make me an ignorant liar.
So if I live to be 100
That’ll be 29,930 days
And I don’t know how many fucking seconds.
But not one, not a single one, would I spend without you being able to share my last name.
First, I dreamed of dokebi (s), plural, that drop gold.
Then I was in this large building resembling a mall and an airport. The interior is very bright, white walls with tall windows, and separate areas sectioned off like lounges. There were an amount of people walking about, going up and down the escalators, or sitting and huddling around the lounge areas.
I, during that time, was walking around on one of the floors and has a destination in mind (dunno where though) and has (no idea why I do) four spoons in my back pocket sticking out. Those silver/metallic spoons have a long handle and round spoon tops. As I was walking past this area full of prestigious, rich, mean/snobby looking people, they dumped a bunch of silver wares onto me saying I dropped ‘em while snickering. I checked the four spoons in my back pocket (and they are there), and dumped the the pile of silver ware back at them then left (those peeps look as if they’ve been offended greatly too).
As I rounded up the escalator, a backstage type area unfold before me. There were students dressed for concert going through the area while an older man, I guess the backstage manager, yelling at them to get out of and go away from his backstage. However, when he saw me coming close, he smiled and told me I can cross his backstage to get to where I want. So I did, and entered a bathroom.
Just as any public bathroom would be, it has a dirty floor, lots of people. When it’s finally my turn, I entered the middle stall. I noticed that there was a window like thing on the stall door, so I moved it so no one can see me. To my bewilderment, I realized I can see through the stall door. There are still lots of people in the bathroom, and directly across from the stalls are big open entrance to the outside (outside as in streets), which here cloudy and raining (the scene is similar to a person standing inside a open garage looking out).
When I looked up again, I saw an old friend/classmate from middle and high school coming in through the garage-like entrance and a scruffy (but young) guy coming in after her. They started arguing and my friend kept looking in my direction as if she could see me. Then two janitors came in (weirdly a guy and a gal) and started doing stall checkups. The lady didn’t have a nice attitude, but the guy was trying to be funny. As they got to my stall, they told me to hurry up and get out. Then I saw another old friend/classmate peeking his head at the entrance of the bathroom, at my direction too, and telling me to hurry up and get out.
It was five years ago, on the last day of school, when we first spoke to each other and our eyes made contact. I didn’t know it then, but that’s when I fell for you.
Five years later, there’s still a place for you, even though you’re not around anymore. I’ve tried to let go and talk myself out of daydreaming, but from time to time, I’d dream about us. A song, a place, or old aquaintences can easily bring you to my mind.
I know I have this dream bubble, where you’re still you and I’m still me. I also know that can’t be true, but I can’t pop that bubble. Maybe if I see you one more time, then that bubble will burst, and I’ll finally be able to really let it all go.
Yet I know, as I’ve told you before, letting go isn’t forgetting. You’ll always be here, with me.
Last day of normal class, but I don’t feel excited at all. I’ll probably be relieved when finals are over next Wednesday, but still not excited D:
Dunno why, looking back at my earlier school days, I can see that I was so happy going to school (even if I had trouble when I came back to US). School was fun, exciting, and a place where I learn, excel, and make many friends. Of course there were some unpleasantness, but that just makes everything else merrier.
Yet now, as I’m completing college, I noticed that college isn’t as fun. To clarify, I’m not saying college won’t be fun for everyone, and maybe it’s just not fun for me, but it is definitely not what I had in mind. I don’t drink, smoke, or go to those parties of drinking/smoking, but I do enjoy a night with friends gaming or just hanging out together. What I mean by ‘not as exciting or fun’, is the academic. I remember I loved history, science, math, and art classes in high school. In college? Not a thing. You go to class, sit through it, try to pass the tests, and on to the next.
Welp, almost done with this, and though most of my elders tell me that I’d miss my time in school (and I do believe them), it’s getting very exhausting when there’s intellectual excitement anymore.