Moulder

Three years gone by,

Like the blink of an eye.

As I sit and reminisce,

I begin to realise all that I will miss.

Commenced with walks in crowded hallways,

A disoriented expression across my face.

Sat on benches with strangers,

Who I shied away from, because of their demeanours,

I clung to the person I knew best,

Too afraid to get along with the rest.

A year went by,

With utterances of hello and goodbye.

These strangers turned to classmates,

Who all had stories to relate.

I opted to adhere to the people I knew,

Hesitant toward anything new,

Came off as arrogant to some,

Oblivious about the obstacles we were yet to overcome.

In the second year,

The proximity evaporated our fears.

We came together to get a job done,

This was where our coalition begun.

We strolled through the hallways,

Everything was a haze.

Bonds were made, too late,

As our time together began to fade.

The last few months have been a roller coaster of emotions,

As our lives are set in motion.

We sit in benches with more than just strangers,

With people who are more than just backbenchers.

I begin to regret,

Not acquainting myself sooner with those who I met.

I let the memories stay with me,

While we go our separate ways, and be free.

But, I will always remember,

The English Department, that was our moulder.

Advertisements

Fit In

What is beauty?

We all pretend to know what it is.

But is beauty what we feel something is? 

Or, do we just say something is beautiful, just to fit in? 

Isn’t that what we all want?

To fit in?

What, then, is fitting in?

Thinking the way other people do? 

Feeling the way other people do?

No one would be special then. 

To be special, to mean something,

That is what we all crave for. 

So we do what people do,

We try to fit in. 
But on this path to “fitting in”,

We lose ourselves,

And forget what we are.