Blue Light Glasses
As life begins to tumble forward into something more hectic than I ever thought it could be, I keep catching myself longing for a sanctuary. I imagine a place where everything pauses, where the air feels light again, and where my mind finally stops racing. I try to find it in nights out, in parties, in things I know I should not be doing. For a moment I trick myself into thinking I am close, but the truth is I never quite touch the edge of that ecstasy I am chasing.
Sometimes I wonder if it is something that cannot actually be reached. Still, I swear I felt it this past summer. I swear it was there with me every single day of those three months. I woke up without stress knotted in my chest. I didn’t think about the AP Government test waiting for me, the one I now have in only two hours. I didn’t bother with Quizlet or with Hemmer’s history. Back then there was only time, and freedom, and a version of myself that felt whole.
Now when I let myself look back, I can feel it slipping away. A week ago my heart actually jumped when I thought about the summer I had. I remembered the mornings that were my own, the afternoons stretched out like forever, and the nights that felt endless. But today that same memory feels hollow. Today there is nothing. Just the absolute blankness of knowing it is gone.
I keep convincing myself it might come back if I can find the right kind of stillness. Maybe if I let myself rest for long enough. Maybe if I sit quietly when I am not in my TA period grading the homework of the grade below me. Maybe if I can zone out in AP French instead of wondering what we could possibly be talking about. Is it the summer of my life? Or is it some test that feels like a riddle I will never solve? My understanding of AP French feels just as far away as that fragile feeling of peace.
Sometimes I look at the glow of my computer screen and pretend it is the sun on my face a month ago. The air conditioning in the school building blows like a weak imitation of the summer wind. The students around me blur into the faces of the people I saw every morning in that foreign solace. My high school hallways begin to twist into the shape of my apartment in Paris. I close my eyes and hold the image until it breaks. And when it does, I am left only with the upset knot in my stomach, a feeling that seems to exist solely within these walls.
