Saturday, January 31, 2015

Rewritten: The Age, The Place, and The People

This well of mine, this well of mine has run dry
Rippling through the rest of my body
Crippling my engine
Preventing me to move

I was once a prodigy in the era of the Olsen twins, Tavi Gavinson, and tween cancer researchers. I once ran full speed towards academic publications, worked on various drafts, climbed organizational ladders, and collected praise. I reveled in being the youngest in an advanced class. Back then, I attributed my achievements to this era, an era that encouraged the youth to blossom and even better, run the world. Now, I struggle to find the word 'attributed' in my brain. A brain that has become a haystack. But as we found magnets to pull needles out of haystacks, my brain has turned into a sea of mud and my light has become a gem.

Nine months after Sarah Lawrence and I am still in withdrawal. Plugged out of New York City and planted in London, I left the mystical world of imagination for cold lecture halls. The weather isn't as grey as they said, but the classes sure are. How foolish was I to even smile at the thought of going to a "top UK school" when I've proven that this was not for me. As I reached out to taste normality, the wardrobe regurgitated me away from Narnia.

My pace, my pace approaches the mean

When I attributed my drive to age, I was afraid of losing opportunities
First-sign aging repelled me
Birthdays depressed me

Now, I begin to question if age isn't so much a factor as space. Fixating on age overshadowed my judgment. In that case, what I need is that yellow room and its sun roofs. What I need are round tables where hearts can spill and the gears in my mind can turn. What I need is my sweet spot on the second floor of The Canon, where my feet can dangle as I laugh at improv and sing-along to 90s hits with my friends.

If only you were a book that I could carry around with me

Ego hinders me yet again

Till now, I loved the serenity of sitting in an empty classroom, thirty minutes early. As an intern, I'd come to an empty cluster of cubicle and munch on some dim sum. But, motives change. Back then, I anticipated the teacher to storm in with the need to use the bathroom and the need to have his laptop watched. Other days, I couldn't wait to see my friends or better yet, to spend ten quiet minutes with the boy I secretly crushed on.

Though age changes, to some extent, you are still you
Places, on the other hand, are left and found
But, people...
People are tricky...
Just thinking about May makes the ends of my mouth droop
Counting down till that boy graduates doesn't help either

The moment has passed, you see
The engine stopped
The well dried
And no, I did't see
I can't see
It passed and I didn't even saw it coming

Or, maybe I've rewritten the past three years

*All photos were supplied by the author

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