I woke up in a sweat after running for hours in a dream. I wasn’t going anywhere important, but everyone else was heading in the same direction. And it wasn’t the running that made me sweat. It wasn’t the mass of people that seemed to keep jostling each other aside to get to wherever it was we were all trying to get to. No, it was seeing you. Seeing you in a crowd of thousands. Just a glimpse of your face took me away for a moment, and in that moment I felt a strange sense of calm and clarity. And I believe it was returning from that instance to the nudging of countless elbows, and the difficulty of attaining that sense of peace again, that made me sweat. And now I was running for a different reason. I was running because I knew you’d be at the finish line, and that would be when I could see you again, and all would be restored to calm and clarity.
Can there really be only one that can fill this void.
Oh god how I miss undergrad! Not just the fact that I could be an irresponsible son of a gun and get away with it, but also all the memories crammed into four of the most exciting years of my life. I miss running around with my favorite college dropout, listening to his words of earthly wisdom, treading through snow and slush to get Subway at Walmart, watching movies in the library and just dicking around in general. I miss being in Scotland, having the best dorm room hands down (best bed, personal bathroom, regular room cleaning, unlimited food), being so close to Arthur’s Seat, walking down to Princes Street to shop, to drink, to rollerblade, up Carlton Hill to see the snow-covered rooftops of the city below, hitchhiking across the kingdom, seeing sights and breathing in life and wonder and awe. I miss my summer in Japan, my soul-searching journey around that beautiful and delicious country. I miss returning to Trinity as if I never left. I miss the nights, the late nights, the early mornings of fog and mist and sudden clarity of where I was and who I was and what I thought I wanted. I miss packing to leave Trinity, the thrill of returning home to Arcadia, the short stays in my hometown a whirlwind of catchups and revisitations. I miss the constant touring through Vietnam, the pleasant stay in Singapore, and the finish line in Malaysia. I miss the wildlife of Australia, the beaches, the food, the feeling of home and comfort and stability in a place that couldn’t be further from home and comfort and stability. I miss my final year ‘neath the elms of our good ‘ole Trinity, a roller coaster of hopes and dreams and passions and futures and new beginnings, of sweet endings and heartbreaking goodbyes, of hot chocolates and snowflakes, warm hands and blankets, summer dresses and fields of green. We were young, wild, and eternal. The universe could have collapsed in on itself, and we would’ve thrown a party about it and danced until the end, and it would’ve been perfect.
I miss the people.
I miss the love.
Will life ever be that good again?
My lies caught up to me like a storm, and I became lost in the fiction. And though it seems like the worst is over, and though a numbness has seized my senses, I cannot help but wonder if the worst has yet to rear its ugly fucking head.