I cannot describe how I long for
this season to begin, with its careless days, its loose-fitting clothes, and
its beautiful days…this year’s summer is almost here. The days of not caring
about anything that doesn’t deserve attention…how I love for these days to
come. How I long to stroll the sands that border the seas, casting stones
across the water and searching for sea shells to add to my collection. The days
of summer songs will arrive soon.
But
it hurts me to know that this time of glee will also bring farewells. It is not
that I will forget these people, or even remotely miss them, but their absence
will change my experiences when this institution of learning’s classes return
to their schedules. If those certain persons are not present, there will be
something missing; their strange presence, even if it is one that I would have
despised, will not be there. I find that it is a strange situation that I seem
to need hate, turmoil, and pain to function…it most likely is not the most
desirable cocktail to lead to utility, but it is what fuels my soul. This
constant back and forth between bliss and anger would be in the sights of
wretches, but I would not have it any other way.
This
is my life, my empire of dirt; my greatest and my most valiant failure, but it
is the travesty that I love. My life that burns to hate will die to love.
Daniel Helle, Twenty-sixth of
May, Two Thousand and Eleven