Reflection on a Sunny Day
Today is a really beautiful day out. I haven’t actually left my dorm (it’s Ramadan, no need for the dining hall LOL), but it feels sunny through the big window in my room. And, when I gaze out, I see that almost all the snow that had settled around my stairwell from the big blizzard has melted. You can tell March will begin tomorrow. March has always been a really lovely time of year for me. Maybe it’s because of my birthday, or the start of Spring, or the beginning of the end of the school year. But, it just feels so good. I probably shouldn’t be looking ahead to tomorrow just yet, though.
I woke up very late today (almost 1 pm). I haven’t done that since winter break. It felt nice. Sometimes, my kneejerk reaction is to get angry at myself: how DARE I wake so late! But when I think about it, those extra few hours in my soft, comfy bed were probably needed. I don’t think it’ll be too detrimental (although midterm week begins tomorrow, but again, no looking ahead).
I’ve been seeing a lot of movies, as always. Last night, I accidentally got a cherry soda rather than a regular because they were all labeled the same. It’s funny because I told myself: not one sip until the movie begins, take it slow and savor. So once the movie began and I took my first sip, I got a surprise. I thought I’d dislike it more, but I still would’ve preferred my regular choice. But my friend brought me two yummy cupcakes, so I was happy anyway. The movie was also good. It made me laugh a lot.
There are so many things stressing me out right now. I’m waiting on a refund the company has DEFINITELY messed up and their customer service has been awful. I am struggling with feelings of loneliness and isolation, of trying to decipher what I feel without necessarily trying to figure out why. Midterms, again, and the stress that always comes with trying to figure out my dorm situation for next year or what my plans for storage and move-out are this year, especially post-mold. It’s funny how once you live through something, it can never be taken back.
Mold took up maybe 3-5 weeks of my life, yet I don’t think I’ll ever be the same. It completely changed my relationship with my things. I throw things out so much easier now. It shattered my sentimentality, but I’m realizing that might not be such a bad thing. I think I feel too tethered to the past at times. The past can be beautiful, but that doesn’t mean I need it stuck to me like lint.
So much of my poetry is hard for me to read back now. I see every word where I was trying desperately to cling to my past. It makes me hurt to read it. I constantly swing between a need to be open and vulnerable, and a need to move on. I’m putting together a book of poetry and sometimes I come across a poem of mine I adore, but it’s just not the truth for me any more. There are people I loved then that I don’t any more and they’re all over my words. The poems were so honest that I can’t separate them from their muses. So, at this point, I need them separate from the story I want to tell. It’s taught me a lot about myself. I’ve learned a lot this year.
As I put together my last batch of poems for the collection, I’ve found poems of hope. They range from spring to summer, to the early days of fall. It’s been nice. As I get older, I am realizing that happiness is kind of a choice. It’s choosing to be kind to yourself despite the initial impulse to be unkind. To do things you love for yourself, like see movies and sometimes drink too much caffeine. To have alone time and lounge for a few days. To unabashedly love what you love, but when love comes to an end, to lay it peacefully to rest. I’m getting better, and maybe I only feel so good because of the glorious sun, but I want to honor it either way. I want a beautiful life, and insha’Allah, it’s coming.
I woke up very late today (almost 1 pm). I haven’t done that since winter break. It felt nice. Sometimes, my kneejerk reaction is to get angry at myself: how DARE I wake so late! But when I think about it, those extra few hours in my soft, comfy bed were probably needed. I don’t think it’ll be too detrimental (although midterm week begins tomorrow, but again, no looking ahead).
I’ve been seeing a lot of movies, as always. Last night, I accidentally got a cherry soda rather than a regular because they were all labeled the same. It’s funny because I told myself: not one sip until the movie begins, take it slow and savor. So once the movie began and I took my first sip, I got a surprise. I thought I’d dislike it more, but I still would’ve preferred my regular choice. But my friend brought me two yummy cupcakes, so I was happy anyway. The movie was also good. It made me laugh a lot.
There are so many things stressing me out right now. I’m waiting on a refund the company has DEFINITELY messed up and their customer service has been awful. I am struggling with feelings of loneliness and isolation, of trying to decipher what I feel without necessarily trying to figure out why. Midterms, again, and the stress that always comes with trying to figure out my dorm situation for next year or what my plans for storage and move-out are this year, especially post-mold. It’s funny how once you live through something, it can never be taken back.
Mold took up maybe 3-5 weeks of my life, yet I don’t think I’ll ever be the same. It completely changed my relationship with my things. I throw things out so much easier now. It shattered my sentimentality, but I’m realizing that might not be such a bad thing. I think I feel too tethered to the past at times. The past can be beautiful, but that doesn’t mean I need it stuck to me like lint.
So much of my poetry is hard for me to read back now. I see every word where I was trying desperately to cling to my past. It makes me hurt to read it. I constantly swing between a need to be open and vulnerable, and a need to move on. I’m putting together a book of poetry and sometimes I come across a poem of mine I adore, but it’s just not the truth for me any more. There are people I loved then that I don’t any more and they’re all over my words. The poems were so honest that I can’t separate them from their muses. So, at this point, I need them separate from the story I want to tell. It’s taught me a lot about myself. I’ve learned a lot this year.
As I put together my last batch of poems for the collection, I’ve found poems of hope. They range from spring to summer, to the early days of fall. It’s been nice. As I get older, I am realizing that happiness is kind of a choice. It’s choosing to be kind to yourself despite the initial impulse to be unkind. To do things you love for yourself, like see movies and sometimes drink too much caffeine. To have alone time and lounge for a few days. To unabashedly love what you love, but when love comes to an end, to lay it peacefully to rest. I’m getting better, and maybe I only feel so good because of the glorious sun, but I want to honor it either way. I want a beautiful life, and insha’Allah, it’s coming.
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