first day of school blues

you know that moment when you fully understand that summer has come to a close? for some of you going back to school, maybe it happened weeks, or even months ago. today was my first day back, and dang am I not happy about it. for many people, the first day of school is a fresh start. you can make an impression on the classmates you haven’t seen in months, and do things you didn’t get the chance to last year.

maybe your friends aren’t in any of your classes, so you’ve gotta…make new ones, I guess. maybe your teachers are starting off the year with the oldest trick in the book: “I’m pretty chill, ’til you make me mad,” or “This’ll be a fun year, so long as we work together,” or “I’m probably the best teacher you’re ever gonna get. Why? ‘Cause I remember how it feels to be you.” sure, some of the teachers that are frequent offenders of these crimes might actually be innocent, but making promises to a bunch of near brain-dead students isn’t the best thing to do, because you know they’ll remember each and every one of them.

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of course, some things’ll excite you and others you’ll dread til the second they’re in your face, but the whole feel of being in school again, walking the halls and being familiar with what lays within them, being more confident the longer and longer you’re there because they know you. they know who you are, and you know they’re thinking about you, so you walk through the halls with your head held high till someone comes and knocks it down.

but why knock it down? did someone knock you down, too? were you feeling so grand on the elaborate pedestal you sculpted yourself until someone knocked you right down and left you lying there on the floor for someone to pick you up? did someone pick you up, or did you have to force yourself to your feet? did you have to motivate yourself, and then dust yourself off a little? or put on some more clothes, maybe a smile, so no one would ask questions? maybe you saw all the others standing high on their pedestals and you felt mad because you wanted your own post to stand upon. you knocked them down, just as someone did to you, and now you stand a little taller than you once did. you stand a little taller but you feel a little smaller.

and what about those who watch all that happen? are they too shy to intervene? maybe they were told by their parents that if they keep their heads down low and make sure no one picks on them, they’ll have a great time.

the best times are had when you speak up.

struck from your position on your pedestal you slump through the halls, wounded, your eyes singing a sad sort of song. you thought you’d built it strong enough, you thought the materials you used would hold you up forever, but they were destroyed with a quick, careless swipe. but you don’t feel mad. you aren’t mad, nor are you sad. you’re disappointed.

you’re disappointed because you spent all this time thinking of what could have been, and so when it almost happened you were ecstatic. and when it grazed your cheek and whizzed on past, your heart was broken.

“I’m never doing that ever again.”

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