If You Dream of August
Posted: Thu May 06, 2010 11:32 am
Note to self: If you dream of August in the spring, take it as a sign of things gone wrong. The semester has barely begun and you already look forward to the still faraway vacation. It simply must be a bad thing.
But maybe it is fitting that today is the day I'm a little bit out of it, and thinking of other things. It's a day, not different from others like it, but it is a little bit special after all, even if I don't want it to be. I'm a year older, a year wiser, a year stronger now. I don't feel any older, wiser or stronger, but I'm sure I've quietly grown as the seasons have passed. While waiting for yet another, relatively unremarkable day to begin, I sit in the familiar seat of the familiar classroom, and study myself from top to toe. All seems to be in order. I'm ready for yet another year in the life of... myself.
We live in a world without a future and a past often too painful to be remembered. We cling to the present, try to get what we can from it. This makes birthdays special, milestones reminding us of the importance of living. Thus, as a rule there is a big celebration. Not so for me, as I've told only one other of this date despite not intending to, and sworn her to keep the secret close to her heart and if possible, make even herself forget all about it. Maybe I would be able to forget about it too.
And forget I try. I dream of August, of the warmth of a waning summer and the leisurely days. Lost in these musings, I almost don't notice him entering the classroom. I look directly at him and he at me, his lips form a word simple enough to recognize. Hello. He is so clumsy it makes me frustrated.
The class begins and I straighten in my seat. The familiar bow, the familiar handwriting on the blackboard. Nothing makes this day different from all other days. That is good. That is like it should be. Misha turns around in her seat and starts talking with him, looking sly. I think she might be "whispering", and once again I wonder what exactly it is like. Without translation, I content myself to reading the textbook until she remembers to pay attention to me, flashing a bright smile without a hint of apology.
A note flies on my desk, landing straight on my textbook. It's almost neatly folded in two. I glance at the culprit before touching the note. He is smiling at me, but turns away, pretending ignorance.
"Happy Birthday!" reads the note.
Oh, I can't believe I'm really blushing. This is not like me, but perhaps the heart of a girl of eighteen is a new kind of secret, full of wonder. Such an embarrassing thing to say, but lucky me, I would never say that aloud.
**************
Jumping on bandwagon derp. Pretty boring, maybe I should post my short practice shit more often than twice a year.
But maybe it is fitting that today is the day I'm a little bit out of it, and thinking of other things. It's a day, not different from others like it, but it is a little bit special after all, even if I don't want it to be. I'm a year older, a year wiser, a year stronger now. I don't feel any older, wiser or stronger, but I'm sure I've quietly grown as the seasons have passed. While waiting for yet another, relatively unremarkable day to begin, I sit in the familiar seat of the familiar classroom, and study myself from top to toe. All seems to be in order. I'm ready for yet another year in the life of... myself.
We live in a world without a future and a past often too painful to be remembered. We cling to the present, try to get what we can from it. This makes birthdays special, milestones reminding us of the importance of living. Thus, as a rule there is a big celebration. Not so for me, as I've told only one other of this date despite not intending to, and sworn her to keep the secret close to her heart and if possible, make even herself forget all about it. Maybe I would be able to forget about it too.
And forget I try. I dream of August, of the warmth of a waning summer and the leisurely days. Lost in these musings, I almost don't notice him entering the classroom. I look directly at him and he at me, his lips form a word simple enough to recognize. Hello. He is so clumsy it makes me frustrated.
The class begins and I straighten in my seat. The familiar bow, the familiar handwriting on the blackboard. Nothing makes this day different from all other days. That is good. That is like it should be. Misha turns around in her seat and starts talking with him, looking sly. I think she might be "whispering", and once again I wonder what exactly it is like. Without translation, I content myself to reading the textbook until she remembers to pay attention to me, flashing a bright smile without a hint of apology.
A note flies on my desk, landing straight on my textbook. It's almost neatly folded in two. I glance at the culprit before touching the note. He is smiling at me, but turns away, pretending ignorance.
"Happy Birthday!" reads the note.
Oh, I can't believe I'm really blushing. This is not like me, but perhaps the heart of a girl of eighteen is a new kind of secret, full of wonder. Such an embarrassing thing to say, but lucky me, I would never say that aloud.
**************
Jumping on bandwagon derp. Pretty boring, maybe I should post my short practice shit more often than twice a year.
