Human Nature

D.O.I's Neologisms:

I feel a disconcerting state of discontent approaching quite soon. It is the month where history is celebrated, yet for some, it is also the worst month of the year. Forgetting the fact that I divulge into another year of adulthood at the midpoint of this month, I’m searching to do something. I’ve called everyone I know who could give me a truthful answer on this situation. I have a plan for the next four years of my life. Everyone around me is telling me to take it easy, don’t worry about that physics test two days from now. This thing called “senior spring” is upon us! But I know that which is easily given to us can be revoked just as easily.
Position: where do I stand? Do I enjoy the speechifying of our president or am I forced to enjoy it for obvious reasons? Do I want to chill and have fun, throwing the cares away, or do I want to do the responsible thing? It’s like a tug-of-war. Of course, without all of these questions, life would not be nearly as interesting. That doesn’t stop the disconcerting feeling: I see a lot differently than my comrades around this time. I’m looking for things to keep me inspired, and not lamenting about the dreary days ahead. I’m still going to care about the kids that, despite their behavior around their own kind, beg for leadership and guidance from someone they actually care to hear from. I guess that makes me dear, but not the only one. My mind hasn’t shut off because there’s a plan for me. I was once told that God wants you to leave things to him, but he doesn’t want you to be stupid. Of course, that opens up a new box of interpretations that I take only one thing from: follow your mind.
I felt a jabbing at my back yesterday. It was a ball from a kid who wanted me to follow him to the baseball field and play. I stepped on the diamond, didn’t know the entirety of what to say, nor the history of the field on which the air I had to slay. The kid asked me, “why are your shoulders so high? Everything is supposed to be okay.” He had a happy-go-lucky look on his face. I felt a drop of rain and shuddered. He opened his mouth and gave it a taste, as if he was kissing God at the top of his place, and it became their warm embrace. He didn’t have a care, so he dropped the ball, and said “race you to the street, I dare.” I wasn’t prepared to divert my energy from my problems and into the soles of my feet just to race this kid. But it provided an out, and from my problems, I hid. We sped along the route, cars drifting along. My mind raced three times as fast as our steps. I let him take over, as it was futile to accept the challenge of being a kid again. We reached the finish line, and he pulled out a gold medal. He placed it in my palm, and as my thoughts began to settle, I asked why I was to take the prize. His way of winning was not the best or the fastest, actually, a clever disguise. He wanted me to take it and keep it as a symbol. Of what? Of whatever I wanted it to be of. I held it high so its luster could be free. I didn’t care if the next driver went blind or slammed into a tree. My purpose was only to find the significance of this metaphysical manifestation of a judge’s way to determine who is the best. And the kid asked me why I intently stared at it? I told him it must have some purpose. And I had to find it. He took it back and put it around my neck. “That was its purpose.” He smiled and left.
I don’t know what is coming next. I want it to be immaculate. I want it to be filled with no mistakes. I want it be being held in the arms of someone who cares, or any euphemism that those words entail. But, I’m constantly reminded that worrying about it is not my job. It leaves a bad taste in my mouth, and I have trouble falling asleep because of it, but it’s the truth. I’m going to find a repairman who can mend a shattered coronary artery. It’s been dislocated for six years, and it’s the reason I haven’t been truly happy for all of this time. Maybe I can return to being that kid I met yesterday.