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mood |
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lonely |
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music |
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Lonely by your side- Azzido De Bass feat Johnny Blake |
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I have an easy schedule this semester. Three classes, all on MWF. I've also been pulled in and out of meetings, so that, despite being a newbie to UCLA, I feel like a vet. My Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays have turned into a routine. Busy, yes. But bearable. No, it's the Thursdays and Tuesdays and Saturdays and Sundays I dread. When class picks up, I'll get things to do. I'll have papers to grade and tests to look over. For now, though, the days stretch ahead in front of me, daunting as can be. I sleep in. I go running, or I don't. I take a shower, stretch, watch something pointless on T.V. I eat, or I don't, and then I get restless with whatever's on T.V. and go and try to read. But I can't read, either. I get a chapter or so in, and get bored with it, and turn back to T.V. but nothing is on, so I check my e-mail, and 2 minutes later, that task is done as well. Sarah is here, sometimes, but she works all day during the week. And even when she IS here, she isn't really. She goes up to her room, and stays silent and avoids me so that I may as well be alone. And if there's one thing I've learned? Being alone is lonely. It's not just an emotion, its a physical feeling as well. It's like lethergy, but different. Your head begs for stimulation. It's like a headache waiting to happen. There are things I COULD do. There are so many minutes that need to be filled, and I could go and do laundry, or clean. But I don't, because they don't cure that sinking feeling that penetrates down to the bone. Instead, I sit. Or I sleep. I will away the minutes in the way a dying man would hate me for. Life wasn't meant to be lived like this, lived being willed away. In 20 years, or 40 years, I will be wishing for more of these minutes. Sometimes, it makes me wish I had a fastforward button. Only, you get the same amount of time. If I want to skip a day or a month or a year, that gets tacked back on to the end. Would it make a difference, though? Or would I live my life in a fastfoward version only to find that at the end of it, I have nothing to do but wish away the minutes same as now, except without anything to look forward to then. Ah, mortality. The gray in the mirror this morning reminded me that my minutes are slipping away. The phone call from my mother, reminding me that I haven't given her grandchildren, or the comment from my sister's friend ("Well, just ask your wife about it and get a sitter for the night!" Because, at my age...I MUST be married. I MUST have kids)...reminds me that my minutes are slipping away. The kids in my classes, with their inability to recall a professors' name ("Really? Who do you have for that?" "It...Starts with an L?") and their nonchalant attitude ("How do you feel about the presidential debate?" "...I don't really follow it.") towards anything but videogames...their young faces, getting younger every year (though they really are the same age and it is ME getting older) reminds me that my minutes are slipping away. The idle ticking of my watch...something I'm only aware of when the night goes quiet and I can not fall asleep...reminds me that my minutes are slipping away. And on one side, I sit, grasping at the grains of sand that slip between my fingers...and on the other, I open my hands out wide and shake them in hopes that the grains will detach themselves and finally leave so that my life may be filled with something other than this void that reaches to deep to even measure, this void filled with nothing but the broken promises of the years that were wasted just like this one, that make me mature and wise but no different than the child (because it IS a child) sitting, at age 19, in the back row, rolling his eyes at the difference between democrats and republicans and wishing that the world was as simple as "RED LIGHT! GREEN LIGHT!" and fake-yellow mac & cheese.
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