sunflowers, at the end of the world

i don’t know who — or what — it is about my literature class that makes my heart beat so restlessly. maybe it’s the two girls with the lovely accents and the pretty black sweaters. maybe it’s those in the back of the room whose faces i don’t remember yet, but whose words fit me like a second skin. maybe it’s my professor, who weaves me a protective cocoon to think in until our next class. it could be the combined smell of eager books and the belgian waffles being sold at the stand outside. or how the souls of my classmates unfold first in opening their novels, and then in afternoon yawns. somehow, i feel like all of us in that room can save the world, you know?

of course, it is so easy to exaggerate about one’s heart in a place one loves. but today, it beat so fast i could hardly keep my hand still to write — no exaggeration necessary.

there was something else, too. at the library, there was a boy with headphones on, studying at the next table. his music was loud, i could hear a piano. his eyes were glued to the textbook in front of him, but his hands under the table played alongside the music. now and then he’d close his eyes and smile. it was a lovely sight.

all in all, today was nice. my fridays are free, so today marks the end of my first week. it was a good week, but that’s not to say it was easy. i’m being suffocated in some places, and others, stretched, curled, thrown. i’m doing my best. i have to. but for now, i’m going to waste away in my pajamas, eat shrimp scampi, and relax.