Here I sit,
Writing at my desk.
In a house on a quiet street in Lafayette.
In normal circumstances, I wake up
At 6:30 AM, before light has even hit the glass window panes,
Quickly scarf down a piece of toast, and run to catch my train.
At the end of the day I head to rehearsal. After I’m done
It is dark again.
So I take the quiet shuttle to catch my train,
Staring at the shadows the streetlamps make on the sidewalk, feeling oddly lonely,
Until I am home again.
But now all I do is sit at my desk
And write.
What do you do when stuck inside?
Nervously glance at the TV as raised voices discuss politics,
Eat Halloween candy until I think I’m going to be sick.
So much more alone now, but much less lonely.
I now have time for the things I like:
Biking, talking to friends, playing guitar, and listening to music.
I couldn’t play guitar before.
I also like to use my voice.
To laugh, winking at my friend as we jump into the frigid lake water, wishing summer wouldn’t end,
To sing, the beat of a song pounding in time with the beat of my heart,
To passionately express my beliefs to a room of people in my head.
The world before was brimming with people and a never-ending list of to-dos.
On my train, cramming for tests as the sunrise illuminated my page,
I only thought of where I had to be next.
I can’t take the train anymore, I don’t have anywhere to be.
So instead, my thoughts cloud my mind, forcing me to sit and ponder.
I look to the week ahead, no longer filled with desolation,
People using their voices to change the future.
I can’t wait until I’m one of them.