I need silence. But, as I sit staring into my computer screen attempting to articulate who I am and who I’ve become over the last 1.5 years, I can only hear the rhythmic ping of a metal bat hitting a baseball. Ping. Ping. Ping. Classmates’ fingers furiously tapping keyboards. An occasional slurp from an iced coffee. The Manhattan-bound 4 train rolls by. A lone bird chirps. Spring time. Finally.
A swaying barren tree under a blue sky reflects in my computer screen. My vision blurs and sharpens, as I linger between the present and the past. The silhouette of me. My shadowy, dusky reflection.
I tap my desk. Pull my iPod out from my backpack. Eat a few chips. A year and a half worth of memories--some vivid, some vague--flood through my mind. Images. Conversations. And suddenly, I feel overwhelmed by emotion. Moments of elation. Frustration. Sadness. Helplessness. I fight tears as I search for meaning in these memories that I once fought to suppress but which now sit at the front of my conscious.
But the words are absent. Is it really words I lack? Or, am I unable to detach myself from my body and float into the air high above my head to see my life clearly? I suspect something in between.
As I search for the words the memories that seemed once so distant come to mind. I can only hope that, in forcing myself to recall them and drag them from my unconscious, I might finally understand who I am becoming.
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