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.