Hard Times

It's hard to take eighteen credits.
And have work-study, and be scattered because you actually live off-campus.
And to be really social.
And to have your life reshifted--it seems like everything hard is happening all at once.
But at least I know that I can graduate the Spring after next.

I have exams tomorrow,
In two different kinds of psychology over all types of information.
All I can think about is the music that I wrote today, and
The songs that I accidently turned on
When memories became captivating and disheartening
And my heart weeped for the times that were
Though they were dishonest
And my mind remembered what I thought was real,
And to perceive it as not is almost like grinding me twice.

Music is the emotion that I can't express
Or that I repress
Because I am so wanting to be proactive that I can't even contemplate the idea
All I want to be is busy so that I don't have to think about what I am really thinking
Maybe taking a short moment to put a tiny abridged piece of it into a song,
Molded until it suits something appropriate from someone's ears.
But that's hard. I can't let out all these emotions completely.

And I'm so sore and tired. My body is exhausted. I want to run more, I need to run more, but
somehow I can't.
I want to be motivated to do the work that I have set before myself.

I hate looking back on everything before me and thinking that it was easier, simpler.
It used to be looking back to high school, and how that was simple.
But now I'm looking back at my spring semester in DC, and thinking, oh, wouldn't it be nice to be back there, it was so much easier then.
I long for these times to be easier. Easy will come.
I got to get over the hump first.