Perpetual

Life is exhilarating. Life is angsty. Life is adapting.

I stroll down the hallway of my home, met by the ever-present scent of musty dust floating its way through the home, oblivious to the situation outside. Perhaps I should yearn to be like a piece of dust; undisturbed by the cacophony that is titled life. Or perhaps, I would do well to be the hallway, an unchanging constant that is unrecognised and yet content to observe. But I cannot. The ebbing and flowing feeling of anticipation is too much.

Food is cool. I often read stories pertaining to the development of habits of food consumption when stress is paramount, which is fitting given that my stomach is rumbling in apparent discord. Chocolate chip cookies are often a source of respite that prevent me from spiralling into insanity, but today, they have no weight. That said, weight is something that is highly dependent on the situation, and the situation is something that one is able to manipulate - especially through the use of food.

YouTube is another source of comfort. Amongst friends, it is known as the evolution of the TV, capable of streaming content that is far beyond one’s wildest imaginations. It is scary to ruminate as to the sheer volume of content created. My friends and I would not be able to view a mere fraction of all created, even if I wasn’t weighed down by the suspense. To think about the creators that have an unlimited potential and yet never receive the credit that they deserve must be shattering. Although, falling from the top is much worse. I wonder what it will be like when the weight is lifted and the events that will unfold; will I be famous and falter? Or will the world see me as another nobody that never receives that tiniest bit of recognition?

I reach down to my phone to have a scroll through Instagram. Instagram is peculiar in that it fosters addiction, and yet it is a common and unequivocal aspect of society, It effects are comparable to that of a minor drug, and yet it receives no backlash. Not that I am complaining. The increases connectivity has lessened the strain of the weight that has encumbered me for so long and has been a way to release through the euphoria of posting something that does not conform with the societal view. And just as strange as the societal view on social media is that of the arrival that is impending. Everyday is just a little bit closer, and I feel jubilant, which I utilise to carry out my everyday tasks.

Cooking is also rad, no cap. Alongside the radical lingo that I have picked up on by dint of the advent of tiktok, my cooking is an unstoppable force. Impersonating a Gordon Ramsay figure is only rivalled by the copying of an edgy teen, probably because they are the people I know that I will never be able to re-enact to any degree whatsoever. That said, the aroma that comes off the pan from a solid wagyu steak basted in garlic and thyme butter is enough for me to convince myself of my prowess, despite the well-done interior that betrays my apprehension as to the cookedness or rather, the rawness of the meat that I sear.

School is constant, albeit monotonous, I often concede that without it, I would have no purpose in life. Although I excel, I find it increasingly difficult to meet the expectations of now decrepit parents who only have energy to harrow me about life at university. It requires so much work, and I consider what life would be like as an average student. Parties, a love life and a decent body are all sacrifices that have to be made. Although, life can change with the smallest of gestures, with the commencement of a tiny project...

Hobbies are viewed as extraneous, and yet play an integral role in all of those that I know. Golf is associated with being a rich man’s sport; clearly people don’t know the power of a student I.D. card and the leniency that people show to a struggling uni student. It is my source of anger release. Of exercise. Of freedom. It is a focus point that allows for distraction from school, which is something that I yearn to have known when I was younger. By taking time away from study, I optimise myself for it, which seemed so counterintuitive to my young self. If only I had known.

The day has come. I stroll around and take in the smells. I take in the sounds. I take in the view. I remember the experiences. I do not taste. That would be strange, Whenever someone mentions taste in a recollection, it feels foreign and forced. It won’t happen in a piece I reflect through.

I walk down the aisles of the hallways that I have grown so accustomed to over the years. The physics room in which my professor charmed and astonished me from my firs day never fails to hit me with a multitude of emotions simultaneously. Most of my peers complain about the social ties that they have created, but those hold no gravitas when opposed to the building itself. Obviously, the building is not what I will miss, but the safe haven it represents. Change is necessary but change is not easy, It is not an inherent move from one place to another. But alas, change must come.

For today is the day. The day I graduate.

My parents walk up to me. They never fail to amaze me in their complete lack of expression all whilst emanating dissatisfaction. My father walks up to me and declares something I will never forget: ‘You did good son.’, only topped by the crushing embrace that my frail mother hits me with.

From this day on, I knew I made my parents proud. The smallest of changes make the biggest of differences.

Indeed.