Dull

Clear skies and green trees were passing me by as I hazily walked down the sidewalk. The clunking of my dirty and tired red converse was background noise to the mind-numbing silence running through my thoughts. Things such as the test I was about to take, the boyfriend I have and adore, and the slight breeze that was the perfect refreshment to a warm summer's day should have been in my consciousness somewhere ... but they weren't.

The straps of my backpack were rubbing against my shoulders uncomfortably, my sock had fallen off my heel and was now covering just the first half of my foot, and I was sure my hair was a mess. Ominously, the door to the testing center opened to reveal a staircase leading to a line of twenty five people. "Why did I have to wait until today to take this stupid test?"  Oh yeah. Because I had two other exams this weekend, with yet another coming up this week. With each stair stepped, my mind couldn't help but wander to thoughts of him. I bitterly rebuked myself. "Knock it off. It's over. Things ended and he would only be annoyed with hearing from you." And yet everything on this campus makes me think of him. The library, the Benson, the Romney, the MC, the testing center, and especially the apartment complex that I can see out of the window as I exercise. Strings tied my heart to the memories I desperately held on to. My hair tickled my eyes as I shook my head to get rid of these thoughts. They simply had to go.

As I got closer to the top of the stairs, I turned to grab my pencil out of my backpack. It's dull. The new and sharp tip that it had was now worn down through math homework, taking notes, and drawing pictures for my poems. It now had a rounded top with the marks of wear, and the eraser was no longer untouched. My mind instantly drew a parallel between that pencil and how I feel; I feel like every time my life gets dull I go to the pencil sharpener and get a new tip. Something new, something exciting, and something different. Whether it's new clothes, a new school, or a new love interest,  I cannot seem to find the value in the dull, the old, the "normal" thing for me; I cannot see the memories, smiles, tears, and immense joy that have made the pencil the way it is. ...or in this case, that have made my life the way it is. "Quit being ridiculous," I scolded myself again, "Just because your pencil is dull doesn't mean your life sucks." I finished climbing the stairs. With each step, I found a new resolve to appreciate the dull. Or should I say the well earned, happy, although difficult, life I had.

My eyes rested on a  long line of twenty five people. "Why did I have to wait until today to take this stupid test?"