You had one of those really long days. Not a bad day, just long. You’re nearing the end of those eighteen hours that you spend awake, and deep in your shoulders and spine, you feel every minute of your commute, every thought processed in class, every ounce of weight you’ve put on your feet today. You can see your body from the outside: a sore mass of flesh and neurons, alone in the empty space of the 145th Street station. Standing in the best power pose it can currently sustain. The bookbag looks heavy and the face haggard; they are.
The only things carrying you along right now is the fact that you got a seat on this train into Brooklyn, and this chain of really good songs on your iPod. Bless the miracle of the serendipitous shuffle.
Just twenty minutes ago, you were trudging down a hill, probably surrounded by similarly tired bodies, and asking yourself what your mental state is, your priorities in life. You can’t really tell if you’re on track in life, but you can’t stop thinking about leaving the country, or taking a month off of work. And where the fuck are all the trees in New York?
But you take a deep breath anyway, and you turn your focus further in still. How did you behave today? Were you a good student, and a good friend? You were probably annoying, and you quickly thank your friends for putting up with all of your shit. You should probably do your assigned reading though.
Next week. You promise you’ll do it for next week, and you will.