Realizations such as-
I am a botched up mutation of a cool kid an a sulky weirdo who sits at the back all year.
I laugh really weirdly.
I get super excited then the top of my nose gets sweaty.
Sometimes I cant get the bitch out of my voice.
I am more vulnerable to criticism than I pretend to be.
I can see through a lot of people, but I am aware that I would never crack the layers of social awkwardness and stigma to actually talk to them.
I feel like the nerdy narrator in an American High school drama taking apart the popular kids with the cool apathy of one who has no illusions of ever being a part of the fabled ‘them’
God I am tired, every bit of my body is aching in a horrible, insistent way. But I need to get the annoying teen girl rant voice out of my system,
How can I not write about my first day in college?
It is downright sacrilege!
At three in the night, I decide I need to write something, even if the whole experience is impossible to coalesce into one post.
Off the top of my head-
God, my classmates are a mixed bag of skittles, with the chance that some can turn out to be absolute gems. There is a dearth of stunningly beautiful women, or men in my room though- in keeping with the theory that a muse can never be a writer.
AND my classroom is stuffed with writers.
Every story has one narrator right? Right?
My story has sixty.
Even as I speak, I am the subplot in someone else’s snarky midnight blogpost.
We are all borrowing from each other’s realities, snatching and sharing the same experience by moving around the tiny globes of our flashlight minds, making tiny disconnected pictures out of the whole fabled college experience.
As I walked out of the gates today, beside a surprisingly funny classmate- I pointed out to her relieved ‘So it is over, finally”
“It lived up to all of its hype. That rarely happens.”
Ofcourse, there were people who were trying too hard and those like me, who refused to try at all, blending into the background like army camouflage in Kashmir- so subtly hidden that they are everywhere.
My mind is slowing down.
Things I need to learn:
How to accept the opinions of others, even if they sound like washed out copies of things you have heard a hundred times before.
To not be disappointed when people are exactly like they were supposed to be. Fuck you, stereotypes.
The rare quirky exciting people wont find you exciting enough to let you sit and observe their quirkiness.
You cannot zone out and stare at random bits of the universe, or say things off hand the way you have to people who knew you were dropped on your head too many times as a kid.
Not say things like ‘Get high and watch unicorns jump in gardens.’
To not consider myself immune to stupidity, I must appear all sorts of fuck all crazy because my head and my body are run by two separate companies.
And the one running my body is a cheap side lazy ass corrupt facility that manufactures snot at odd times and makes my face all sweaty and excited even when I am half asleep in my head.
Lastly, I need to sleep, or I will fall asleep mid lecture.
You’d think I would sound more like an adult today, not less.
What is it called again? Atavistic tendencies? No, some sort of devolution, Benjamin Button style?
Fuck, cant find the word. Plus my post is sloppy.
Damn you, college.