I forgot how school is done

Summer has passed incredibly… not necessarily fast, but rather unexpectedly motionless.

As if my life got frozen on the 19th of June and now, three months and a rather impressive amount of time spent in a bed later, I’m going to return to a place that I don’t find very beautiful – highschool.

It is ugly, even in perspective, that I have to return so soon to a place of relative torment, but it doesn’t make it any less exciting. In perspective.

The fact is , I know that, in 8 hours, I’m going to walk with my chin up straight into the school yard, shrugging when the occasional person tries to say “hi”. I’ll probably seem happy, and I’ll partially be happy. And I’ll smile and think of endless possibilities and feel like a princess, because, in the weirdest way existing, school is probably one of the few places where I feel sort of free. Sort of appreciated and sort of well, at least in theory, because school is the only thing I am good at.

I mean, yeah, I love reading to the moon and back. I love talking to people (sometimes) and I hate the fact that, usually I have nobody to talk to the way I’d like to (the main drama of my life, because, believe it or not, I have such a wonderful life and I;m still here begging for a little attention from myself – or rather trying to talk in a sane way –  monologues about how afraid you are aren’t the best way to assure society that you are perfectly healthy).

Moving on and actually going back to how school is the only thing I know to be good at – don’t judge me too hard, please, just don’t do it, even if I am lame. So lame. But really, I’ll probably spend my miserable life teaching somewhere if the grand plan of escaping this corner of the world fails. God, please, don’t let that happen. Just let me open my arms at full length and fly away from here, the way paper planes do. Please.

Anyway, after months of being a painfully  successful hobbit, I am afraid, deep inside my chest, that I forgot how it all gets done at school. I desperately tried to recall the easiness with which I would walk down the hall and greet teachers and friends alike and I couldn’t. And that scares me – this lack of routine- the fact that I can’t remember, step by step, how things are done, even the small ones, like raising my hand of slightly bowing my head or ordering a cup of latte macchiato at the sort of cafeteria we have in our highschool.

This apparently lost ability to communicate within a society.

God, I’m talking as if I’ve lived with the wolves for the past century. I guess it would have been nice.

All in all, school starts tomorrow and I’m terribly excited. High hopes again, formed against my will , promises of the disappointment that is to come. Not yet, tho, not yet.

I am also excited because of this slight amnesia of mine – the way I forgot all of those little steps I used to trace my life around. Maybe it will turn out better, because I forgot how it’s done and I have to discover it all over again.

Or maybe, just maybe, I fail remarkably at life but have a very good spirit when it comes to overthinking my failuresque way of being.

Hope I’ll keep my promises to myself and write here more often throughout this year.

See you soon.

Hello world

My name is Ana. And it is really difficult to write this post for the same cliche reason people have been evoking for ages when trying to say something coherent about themselves – I don’t know and I lack the ability to try to find out something pretty interesting or not-weird-at-all or in any way memorable to say about myself. For that particular reason, I’m just going to go with the basics, so that you can form a mental picture of who I am and this moment of “Ana-say-hi-to-the-internet” goes on smoothly. No lists, though. Even I find listing things about yourself a little bit over the top. Whatever, you may have different opinions. So.

I was born on the 13th day of one particularly hot summer. I have a middle name, but is just as common as my first one. I have a great family, but I mostly lack friends ( that might be a thing that happens because I apparently am too idealistic for this “big bad world”. Meh.)and, for that matter, any type of huge need for human affection that you could expect from a person my age in a society like ours. I love learning – and by that I don’t mean that I swallow whole physics textbooks as a hobby or in any way approve to the way our educational system is shaped. By learning I mean acquiring information about the universe around by any means and with any risks – I mean art and a deep admiration for nature or having late philosophical talks with somebody that gets the way you think. My life is pretty much gravitating around school, for I really used to enjoy it whole back in my middle school years, when some stuff seemed way more manageable. I’m in high school now and everything got pretty much way more chaotic than I’d thought. The fact is, despite having a decent middle school life ( especially when it came to interacting with other human beings , speaking up in class and all that fun stuff ) I used to dream of high school the same way other girls dream of the ideal guy. Wholeheartedly. Sure it would turn out to be the absolute best time of my life. And once again, by the best time of my life I certainly don’t mean parties or underage drinking or a whole new world of romantic encounters – nope,not at all. I dreamed of a new bunch of people that would actually stop being prototypes, some people in which I could see potential friends, some people that shared some of my too crazy dreams of being able to make my life count in some sort of way. Not that all my classmates are bad, some are kind of friendly actually, some are funny, some are people that feel comfortable sharing some of their time with me , talking about mostly useless stuff or fangirling over this and that. There are others, though, that go with the “respecting-the prototype-going-all-tumblrish-and-we-hate-each-other-but-why-does-it-even-matter-when-we-can-make-you-feel-terrible-our-squad-is-the-center-of-the*known-universe” type of thing. I don’t hate them, I don’t think I hate anybody at all, I just have to suffer because of them , once in a while, and the things that such people do or say regarding me came hunting my strong lack of balance during the summer holiday.

Anyway.

Ending my bigger than I initially intended talk about how delightfully much high school sucks from the social point of view when it comes to my lovely person, I will go on .

I inhale and exhale books and words and all and I regret nothing . I read because I probably am unable of managing this life in a grand way. I red because I need people to understand and to be understood by, I read because of my great fear of being trapped. A claustrophobia extended to planet Earth.  Leaving the self explanatory style aside, I have to admit that I read lots of things, but I currently have my fantasy period, though I highly enjoy everything that catches something in me, some sort of freaky part of my mind and drags it around the pages. I can’t totally suffer sloppy, useless, stupid romance, though, the same way I don’t agree with people judging books by being part – or not – of the prestigious group of classics – untouchable through time. Contemporary books can prove to be better than old literature , but I guess that is some sort of a taste discussion I am not ready to dive in. The important thing is, I am simply fueled by literature,in general.

What I hope I am going to write here is basically on the worthy topic of books and on the far less interesting thing that the way I understand life is.

Thank you if you read this.

so. hello again, world. i’m ana and i got a lot to tell.