Rising Up

Waking up this morning, it was hard for me to convince myself that it's the start of a new school semester. Having spent the last nine months in relatively idleness, it was heartbreaking to have to make that two-hour journey to campus. Well, maybe heartbreaking may be a little melodramatic, but it was definitely not a good feeling.

It was so difficult. Although I know for certainty that many others too are faced with the same predicament and are not making as much of a hassle as I am. Yes, I am a spoilt brat, coddled by two decades long of chauffeuring and cab rides. But what is easy for you may be difficult for me, do you see that? It's not about me being able to do what you think you can do well. It's about me, being able to do the things that I've never ever been given the context to do.

Context is everything. Context is returning from a summer of complete indolence and partying. Context is a hard shove into the reality of a new school semester of intense studying. Context, is me, and my set of rules being understood perfectly by me and me alone. It is for me to interpret, for you to try to interpret. To be a good person, you would keep on trying and not tell me that I am wrong. To be not a good person, you would do the contrary and tell me that I am wrong, without seeing how weird it is for you to be telling me how I feel right now.

Do you know how I feel right now?

It's a countless number of things. My computer is still set on Stockholm time, my phone is in French, and my heart is still in Thailand. We always look in the past so fondly and the future so excitedly. Where does the present fit in?