The end of all things stressful and polyatomic.
Yes, the end indeed!
Of exams, of quizzes, of projects, the very end of everything any man has ever known!
...well for the second trimester at TSMS, that is.
THE FUTURE'S SO BRIGHT, I GOTTA WEAR SHADES!
BELIEVE IT OR NOT, I'M WALKING ON AIR!
Yes, life is getting more and more gorgeous somehow.
And sure, we may have school tomorrow and Friday's no different, but what difference can two days make?
Two days from now, art will stay as art, comic books will stay as comic books, and love will never change.
Hopefully neither will life.
I've been listening to Simon And Garfunkel quite a lot lately.
Some reason, listening to their songs helps me concentrate in studying. And I swear, from all the exams I've taken these past three days, there's never been a single one wherein The Boxer was on repeat in my head.
Even in moments when I'm alone during lunch or while our class lines up after recess and I find myself staring at the sky, I find that the swirling clouds and swaying branches in the air resemble the grace of The Sounds Of Silence or The Only Living Boy In New York.
No, not a song of theirs has been able to combat with Desperado just yet. But I tell you, I don't plan on searching for any song that could possibly match the same transfixing powers Desperado has.
Because those are the same transfixing powers that have encouraged my desire of isolation from the world.
Isolation and total separation from the world. Sometimes I think it's what I want the most.
Well what I want the most is freedom, actually.
But I guess they're exactly the same thing.
And lately, every night that I've been pitting myself against human hours studying and reviewing, I'd find myself on the edge of my bed, praying toward a bright sky instead of a real, pitch-black tapestry beyond my curtains and windows.
Not a white sky nor a yellow sky. Certainly I don't stay up that late, but late enough for me to catch the 12-AM sky in late November--a sky washed with glitter yet no stars in sight, a sky that looks like water rather than doom in space.
And I pray to my God Who lives in this sky. Who has traveled the sky and the dominion of the universe, to wherever it's supposed to end.
I thank Him for life, and life that has never changed.
I can never be completely open about my life anymore to any human being at all.
At school, those I'm close to believe I like the beauteous fourth year student with exceptional drawing abilities. Others still believe I like the person I was chained to during Foundation Day.
No one really knows I have really deep feelings for James Jean. Nobody knows at all how much he, as a person and as an artist, means to me.
My busmates think I love MCR because I've memorized a bunch of their songs--songs of which are not singles either, might I add.
But they don't know I've grown out of them. They don't know I'm tired of hearing all their songs about revenge or blood or destruction.
And I'm thankful for this. Because in this way, no one really wants to know me.
It's all part of the Great Isolation Experiment, really. And if my observations serve me right, I think it's working.