When we looked outside, we couldn’t even see the sky. Darkness flooded the room the way light had once flooded our souls. Senior year, they call it. Hell, we call it. The semester without sleep had been conquered by many. There were several strategies to try to overcome it. Some dabble in over reliance on caffeine, others pop in prescription-less pills, and most simply live a life without existing. It’s ironic how you can live without living. You can breathe without trying. You can talk without thinking. You can act without feeling. It’s a life with nothing. And, yet you seem to have everything. You have the freedom, you have the responsibility, you have the choices. Where does the cycle end?
Does it end when the year ends? Or does it simply cycle forever into adulthood? I wouldn’t know. I live on the outside.