College applications are done Acceptance acceptance... acceptance Fill out forms You're in, that's good Recommendation letters A b r e e z e But oh dear. Scholarships. They need what now? SS what's that Number again? AndohmyGodifIhavetowritemyname O N E M O R E T I M E You have my email! Address upon address, didn't I just look at this? IT DIDN'T SAVE. Start again. Breathe. College will be as the applications. Easy?
Basically my thoughts while trying to sign up for scholarships and declaring a new major...
She stared blankly at the computer screen With its flickering screen of judgement.
What are you looking at?
Silence. A screensaver.
Enough of that sass.
It was finally complete.
Her hair wearing its disheveled frizz like a badge of honor From all-night typing And two pots of coffee Where her comb-fingers turned the smoothness of her hair Into a stress-reliever As she muttered madly to herself (But quietly, so as not to wake the roommates Who slumbered in their honey chambers Away from the heart of her hive of activity).
She had buzzed all night On a caffeine-high That made her hands tremble Her muscles ache And her eyes hate her.
With too much to do And a limited time to do it in She had to keep buzzing. Coffee *** number three was carefully stored In a travel mug That she clutched to her clavicle Just to keep the warmth that much closer to her hyped-up heart.
She made her stops at offices and libraries Retrieving promised letters And printing the labors of her night intensive Before she could finally deposit it Behind the glass windows Of the scholarship office.
This is too much work for less-than-ideal odds.
But she had no time to dwell On the gamble she had made And paid in hours of wakefulness And the inked-up peelings from tree corpses. She rushed from class to class Where she tried to speak in coherent sentences, To dance with sharp choreography, And to contribute to society But her body hated her Because she had betrayed it And deprived it of the only thing that it truly loved in this world: Sleep.
It would have its vengeance. It would have its vengeance when she was old, creaky, and could no longer move. But for now, her body made do with small rebellions To demonstrate its displeasure. Sentences were not sentences And every turn, leap, and twist Made her think longingly of sleep. And her body laughed.
But at long last, The sun set The girl slept And then the sun rose.
And this continued to happen Many times. It rose and it set It rose and it set It rose and it set
Until she had forgotten And her body had forgiven The sleepless night.