It’s nearing the end of the semester which means I live by tick marks and folded pages struggling to quantify the space of school and home and the hollowness in my gut. A divided mouthful of lime and honey. A line down the room and through my brain. The stacking of items and actions and books, which can topple over. A smile that is both sincere and acting as a dam to hold back tears.
Because every one of us feel this way. A year in, a year left. I wanted it to be more. While I fear the idea of rooting, sticking in one place like a mold wouldn’t be so bad.