Recent On Essays

Scales

I’m wavering like moving scales from dead goldfish scattered across the ocean floor.

On a balance beam, I’m walking like a zombie across a tightrope.

My goals, stretched out far ahead of me, while the present slips away sinking my feet into mud for my dirty toes.

No attachment to lovers for fear of toxicity and poisoned kisses,

only appreciating the lessons of bad memories, yet never looking too deep into them.

Treating good memories like high nights beside

a blue night light which whispers vapors of essential oils,

Jasmine.

Still sleeping, eating, and showering in the dark,

when once upon a time, light consumed me

writing my way towards freedom when the sun isn’t up and then

being lost out here during the day.

You know, usually, when the semester starts I’m ecstatic and can’t wait to get to the next class. I felt that rush of enthusiasm last night when I reflected on everything that was ahead of me, but today, I was so burnt out. I stayed up so late last night thinking about what was to come next, post-graduation, and I couldn’t believe that everything at VCU was coming to an end.

They say that you’ll know when it’s time for you to move on because you’ll just feel it. I can, seriously, feel it. It’s really time for me to go. The people aren’t the same, I’ve met all of the amazing professors, I’ve come to learn Richmond in and out during my three years of being here, and it’s just a feeling of nostalgia as I walk class to class.

I’m excited though because I can finally start to chase my dreams (it isn’t like I haven’t already) but without the confinements of class times, I can start to do just as much as I would like to during the day. Over the summer, it was a nice taste of knowing what it would feel like to constantly work and only be focused on writing itself. I gave more of my energy to blogging and received a total of 516 views in the month of July which is doubled what it was in June or May.

I found myself caring about the world of blogging, so much more than actually writing a novel itself. I think it’s because I can read what others are writing and only leave behind book reviews while discovering so many other talents that people have.

It isn’t to say that what I’m creating doesn’t matter, but on a larger scale of things I just have a more genuine appreciation for someone’s will to create and what they come up with. Isn’t the brain just magnificent?

Anyway, today, in class I wrote this poem that I titled, “Scales,” because I was feeling the nostalgia, exhausted, and in a sense just unbelieving of what I was going to embark against next on my journey called life. I hope you like this poem, it has a sort of oblique feeling to it.

We were reading Akbar’s Soot during class and it just felt like I needed to write something. I was so tired, the feeling of bags forming under my eyes engulfed me, and yet I have so many underlying truths. I hope you loved this poem.

 

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