first days of the school year: outside of studenthood

on principle, i try to stay away from sharing my own poetry largely because it either ends up being
1. total garbage, or 2. overly depressing.

this next chunk is quite possibly both, but likely more of the latter:

scream silently to keep the peace
drown secretly and crave a rescue
waiting for impossibilities
lying to myself to create hope so that i have something to hold onto 
because even if it isn't functional, it's still something to wrap my hand around
something to embrace 
something to grope for


i sat with a group of first year students last wednesday evening and honestly remarked how much being a student and having that sit ahead of you as the next four or so years of your life can become a formative piece of one's identity. then i took a more-vulnerable-than-necessary step forward and expressed how graduating can initiate a void in place of that identity. i subsequently ate my words and tried to pull out positive aspects, focusing back to the other, to their current stage of life, and instantly regretting the projection of my own - especially coupled with the panicked looks on their faces.

but i'll project it here. b/c it's true, and i need to be honest in some facet. 

responses to casual questions of "what year are you in?" and "what do you study?" are no longer relayed so easily. i find myself spewing off some sort of half-assed elevator speech that i barely believe to try to placate the further questions about what i plan to do with my life. "do you want to do this forever?", "do you want to go back to school?", "are you using what you studied?", or worse "when will you get a real job?" have somehow become more common place in conversation. especially in small talk. which is incredibly ironic, because i find it hard to consider such questions to be accurately labelled small talk, when the scope of the answers that these questions should elicit if i were to be blatantly honest require way more vulnerability than i am willing to dole out to any near-stranger...

it's fall. this is usually my favourite season. a leaf just fell across my keyboard. there's a slight chill to the breeze. but instead of the usual anticipation, instead of joy and excitement for the unknown and unformulated, i feel nothing.

maybe this is normal in such a state of transition. maybe this is standard for life post-undergrad - but already, i'm sick of feeling whiny and ungrateful. i feel like i'm at an existential standstill, and life purpose has evolved into extreme apathy.

i wish to end this ramble on a note of optimism. 

the sun is shining as it sets. the birds are chirping, as are the eager crickets. i'm siting in a rocking chair on my porch. we're about to have our first house meeting of the year. a dear friend is coming to visit me this evening. perhaps tomorrow will bring a greater sense of purpose. perhaps there is joy in establishing routine.

but even that feels akin to a half-assed elevator speech, perhaps in response to the all-too-popular question of "why don't you count your blessings?"