Just me venting
Well, it's one in the morning here. That means that it's Monday and Reading Week is over. I go back to university today. And all I can think is why can't Reading Week be Reading Month? I don't want to go back.
I want to see my family again. My extended family, I mean. I've seen so little of them. Only when they come down here, which is rare and usually not for long. I miss spending a week with them every summer. A week with my grandma; a week with my aunt, uncle, and two cousins; and a week with another aunt, uncle, and three cousins. Those usually weren't consecutive. It just happened over the course of a summer. And then there would usually be a couple of shorter trips to other relatives. I miss that. I want my time away from the city. Even my dad's had more time away over the last two and a half years than I. My sister came back from a trip to San Francisco recently. Yes, she went through school, but still. I want out. Not just time away from school, but time away from the centre too. I want to forget responsibility for a while. Is that so wrong?
First leashed, then shackled. I feel so trapped. A bird in a cage, a dog in a kennel. I can sing and howl but not fly or run. I'm suffering for it, and it's beginning to show. My marks are falling, my housekeeping is failing, and my personal hygiene is lacking. I feel terrible for it but can find neither the energy nor will to change it. And that just makes me feel worse.
Things I used to enjoy no longer catch my attention. My watchers have probably noticed that my writing is all but disappeared. Likewise, I've read less and less. I still read my watchees on here, but I haven't read any books, which were formerly my lifeblood, in a long time. Even the book I had highly anticipated lies unread in my room.
I try to foster online relationships, but sometimes, I fear I only bitch and moan. Who wants to talk to the chronically depressed? There have been instances when I've been in desperate want of a friend, but I let them sign off because I don't want to keep them up late or away from whatever else they need or want to do.
I should just shut up now. Write my poetry and go.
A wolf lies silent in the night,
Not asleep yet dreaming.
It's bruised from rallying 'gainst the cage,
Throat sore from silent screaming.
A shadow crosses o'er the wolf,
His ears perk and he smiles,
But when the shadow passes 'way,
The wolf ceases his wiles.
He noses at a scrap of food,
Knowing he should eat.
Yet even as his stomach growls,
He pushes 'way the meat.
Still he lies within his cage
And looks upon the stars.
He dreams the lock will fall away
And free him from his scars.