the narrow and sturdy string

what's strange to me is not the path of change in my life, but its existence. i never intended for college to be much more than a diversion from the lethargic childhood that deposited me, mildly confused and slightly overfed, in the dormitory for a freshman year. i had no objection to starting school, merely accepting it as a station i would eventually leave. my first surprise was the dislike it brought out, as i always had thought i could accept most things with ease. regardless, i hated the dorm, mostly because it was home to viruses, decaying food, and people who were able to absorb me into the organisms of their friendship with far too little effort. the worst part of a social experience is modifying your habits to fit in with others'. i suppose the college years are a good time to get used to this necessary form of surrender, simply because there is so little one is interested in doing other than nothing much at all, and that is an agenda that can easily be served.

school, like those early friends, had a way of pulling me behind it that was mostly acceptable. what i found halfway through my sophomore year was that education was finally teaching me things. it's not that i had never paid attention in school, or found it difficult due to its dull nature. i guess there just had to be a point, much later than anyone would have guessed, when my brain acquired more than a scattered shower of information. learning, a concept i had heard of but not actually lived, began to shake me from my skipping-record habits. i wouldn't be able to lie to you and say i developed into a remarkably different person, learned art, or anything of the sort. i remained bored and sadly malleable, but the dollars wasting themselves on my education began to smile just a tiny bit as they passed me in the street.

i had never expected a college degree to mean much, but even as a dimly-lit recluse, i find it comes in handy. the hours i spend pressing down the carpet with the side of my head pass so much differently than in the past. i find despair lingers just as expected, watching patiently from a corner as i recite the few lines of the commencement address i managed to commit to memory. some people have said they never liked memorization. while i can't fault their logic, i would rather perish slowly with a whisper of half-recollected poetry sticking to my lips than simply watch myself waste away alone.