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Certain capacities

Sometimes I find myself randomly surprised at the many things our bodies and minds can do under pressure, or strong will.

For instance, memorizing more or less a hundred and fifty provisions for a single test that requires specificity and particularity - an ironically difficult task for someone like me who appreciates the stories in the details, but who has the memory of a slightly-more-retentive goldfish - and writing them over and over again, until your hands no longer seeem to move within your control;

holing up in the library for an entire Saturday, just going through cases and reciting provisions alternately, endlessly, without the privilege (and peril) of a high-speed internet connection or other such good enough distraction (i.e. an actual person);

running, without pause, twice around the Oval, even when your legs hurt and your mind is tired, because you realize now that there is a certain kind of comfort, a physical kind of relief that washes over you and makes your cheeks flush, after catching your breath and realizing you have done what no one expects of you;

waking up earlier than usual to read more: to catch up on things forgotten, or to get a step ahead;

starting to like the place that has, since the beginning, only pushed you away, and seeing the beauty in the little things that make it whole: the wooden tables, the marbled tiles, the view of the Sunken Garden, the chatter of people both eager and afraid to get through the day;

looking away when the sound of a private message pops up from the laptop beside yours;

growing deaf to the sound of feelings you're afraid to admit you're slowly turning indifferent to;

choosing to see past mistakes and imperfections; or understanding what it means to mess up and realize what one wants;


welcoming the quiet and the chaos inside your heart that can only be traced to one;

putting yourself back together again, with the pieces that feel right, and the questions that know the answers even without being asked.


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