Emotionally there is always a space between knowing and understanding. Like the moment you realize that you have sliced a chunk of your knuckle off (I was rushing...) and the moment you understand that you are about to hurt. Microseconds after your eyes see the chunk of flesh missing -- the "wiley coyote moment" (there is no ground/I am falling).
I'm anxious about the loans, the degree, the mediocrity of this degree, the path, the decisions, can I pick this shit up, and the can I be excellent fears....standing here at the bus, waiting for its flashing lights for the last time, feels heavy like the humidity of a stormy afternoon...I'm really going to miss my comfortable job with its tiny comfortable check but most of all I'm going to miss my Joel, my Kathy, and my Jamaica food dispenser.
Under the heaviness, I am kinetic, full of bright stars banging against themselves in anticipation. I had forgotten how much I liked school, and scholarship, and filling my bookcase, and reading big books on the subway.
Oh, the bus is here. Let's do it.
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