End of January

January Ends Like a Test I Forgot to Study For #

January lasted approximately fourteen years. I know February is tomorrow but emotionally I still feel trapped somewhere around January 12th carrying too many books and not enough psychological stability.

School has been relentless lately.
Tests.
Latin.
Mathematics.
Teachers behaving like exhaustion is a personality flaw.

Meanwhile winter continues covering M. in grey light and cold marble and people walking too quickly. Still.

Something feels different compared to September. Back then everything felt uncertain in a sharp frightening way. Now life has rhythms again. School rhythms. Train rhythms. Weekend rhythms between M. and G. Even people feel more solid somehow.

H. beside me in class.
E. narrating humanity sarcastically during lunch.
Mom moving through the apartment trailing Angel and impossible elegance.
Dad smoking near enormous windows above the sea.
M. calling at night sounding like harbor wind and cigarettes and football disappointment.

The architecture feels complete now.

Not perfect.
Just inhabited.

Tonight I reorganized my desk instead of studying properly, which means stress has officially evolved into decorative productivity. Outside the windows M. looked silver-black under winter rain and suddenly I realized something uncomfortable: the future already started.

I mean… NOT DRAMATICALLY, eh… Not on January 1st with fireworks and millennium panic.

Quietly.
Through routines.
Through people.
Through becoming someone little by little without noticing immediately.

Which honestly feels much scarier.

THE END.
Remember me,
Eclipse