College is in full swing, and yet, I still feel unsettled. Don’t get me wrong, I love it here, but, I’m stuck in this weird limbo where I don’t feel like going back home, but I’m still not fully adjusted to I college life. No matter how much I smile, how much I joke, no matter the wonderful people I meet…I feel vaguely alone. I haven’t been able to tell anyone how I feel because frankly feel selfish doing such a thing…but I yearn for them to ask me, to comfort and console me….I feign confidence but I’m dying here. I just want someone to tell me it’s alright, that I belong, that I’ve done well. But when I want to talk about it, the words leave me…I can’t explain it. I feel like…I could kill a lion, but I’m fully aware that I can’t. You know what I mean? It’s like the glory outweighs the danger only for an instance, then I’m reminded that the world is a serious place, and I follow all of it’s rules. Fuck….It’s just….weird.
God damn man, sometimes all I want is someone to kinda just give me a hug, or reassure me that I’ve done well, that I’m doing all right….that it’ll be ok. And plus I don’t even seem to acknowledge these nagging thoughts until late at night…it’s just lurks in the back of my mind until I’m alone. It preys on my insecurities.
The Warrior lay at the foot of a massive tree, his katana, sheathed, stood next to him. The hilt was worn, perfectly grooved to fit his hands, which were calloused after years of wielding the blade-which was still as sharp as broken glass. The warrior looked at the full moon above him with utter disgust. How could something so scarred, so battered and beaten, so full of bruises, radiate with beauty? He looked at his own scars; he too, was battered and beaten, yet he could not even bear to smile after all of his trials and tribulations. “Disgusting”, he spat, leering at the moon. He had tried to be a hero, yet he was still considered a monster; a slayer of man, no matter how long ago is still a monster. But he was a slayer because that is what they wanted, what the people yearned for….it was war. But after all had been said and done, after he had done away with countless lives, without a single shred of remorse, for the sake of a “new era,” he was scorned, cast aside, like garbage, his rights to humanity revoked by the very era he had helped to create. He was useless, a monster, a relic of the past. It was all hideously ironic. “Fight me, scorn me, face me. Torture me with your foul words. Beat me, cut me, and hate me. But you cannot break me. You cannot break a broken man.” he hissed through clenched teeth. At that moment he came to a realization, looking at the very moon he had once cursed, he understood. “I’m not a hero, I’m much more…” he smirked, placing a straw hat firmly upon his head, picking up his sword, “I am the key to my own redemption.”
VCU has been everything I’ve wanted an more. I’ve met great people, meeting more, and have kept up with old ones. I’ve seen cultures that run the gamut from European to Indo-Pacific. My roommate is the greatest, my suitemates are more than tolerable and everyone has been extremely respectful of my values. Ramadan has been on cruise control, and I’m just making the best out of everything.
It’s so different from NOVA, there’s like, no yuppies….
Greek life has taken my interest and vice versa; I’m still battling it out for a scholarship and I’m actually excited for classes….