As the final bell rang and the kids began shuffling away from the tables with their fingers tightly wrapped around change and trinkets, I noticed my own lack of change and plethora of trinkets. And that’s it; some invisible finish line has been crossed before I had even begun to race steadily forward towards the end that my mother had tried so hard to run for me. Unguided, I began to pack the odd assortment that belonged to me: broken wing-less bees, half-polished rocks and others. Useless, unwanted things. A few minutes in, and I had already given up the cheerful approach had seen the other kids doing. Numbed, I let my pack slip through my fingers to crumple at the touch of cement and leisurely picked my way around the small, upturned bodies.
What am I interested in doing? I’ve circled this question many times, jabbed at it and prodded with shallow passings. I’ve made countless lists, forged several paths with these certain “interests”, but I still find myself gawking at these interests I hold in my hands like some mysterious black box neither I nor a scientist could distinguish.
I’ve come to the separate conclusion that there must be nothing in this box of interests, that I have been holding onto a husk, a shell, this whole time expecting for some magical voice to come out of it, whispering much-sought-after directions to The Path.
I’ve also concluded that this box of interests must work as a sort of filtration system. That I have to actively thrust myself into the ongoing activities of life and watch as certain tasks and hobbies sift through and fall into the interests category.
Possibly my interests were so varying and wide that just trying to hold onto them was causing me to tip over, unable to balance while trying to keep this expanding box in my arms.
Perhaps it’s because I have preconceived notions on what my interests should be that when my true interests did not match up with the false construct that I held, they were rejected their spot. And on I went, unhappily carrying my paradigm, asking how everyone else had managed to crack the system.
I have been told on multiple occasions that we look exactly alike, one the carbon-copy of the future and one of the past. I choose to tell you on a site that you will never find the words that I lack the _____ to tell you in person: I truly admire you. Although we butt heads most of the time, if it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have so many of the characteristics that I value. Your unflagging stubbornness or sheer determination and your constant search for novelty have worn off on me. You taught me how to appreciate small things in life and how to be strong in the face of the greater schemes of life.
Although I am absolutely horrible at showing it, I am grateful for you and everything you’ve done. I know how hard you work for what you love and how much you’ve sacrificed for me and the rest of the family. You’ve given so much. So much. You’ve put us before everything else and no matter what, you always have our best interests at heart. You have always been there, cheering me on, sometimes pushing and sometimes pulling me towards the end goal. This has also taught me how to say no (hah).
But all in all, no matter how independent I’ll appear on the outside, I will always reserve a special, unmarked spot for you in my heart and I will never truly outgrow your care.
Held down by earthly desires, she felt them shifting, wings unfolding between her shoulder blades, restlessly beneath her paper skin, like the shivering sheets of the flimsy textbook pages laid out before her, paving a road to somewhere she didn’t even know if she wanted to go.
"Goodnight," I softly sighed as I kissed the budding sun farewell and let my breaths mingle and melt with thoughts of white covers and drawn blinds.