Metamorphosed

I am visiting college before leaving for my hometown— just to breathe in the atmosphere for the last few times. Sticky notes and a pencil with me, churning out some terrible poetry, to be edited on a computer later.

Grownups looking worried, asking me if their ward shall be in good hands. Younglings dressed up formally, each carrying something heavy. Both of them trying to gauge something from my hairstyle and outfit, from the colorful environ, from the unusual architecture. On the television display next to the reception desk, I see photos and videos of some incredible times shared with my friends.

Maybe somebody among them is from a small town having dropped a year, excited to live on his own finally, wanting to know how to dream again, seeking nothing but to hit the reset button on his life, humming an inspirational song, trying not to gawk at pretty faces..

..and on the verge of utterly wetting his pants because he cannot draw anything properly. Hoping beyond what can even be put into words, desperately praying for a miracle.

Perhaps there is a caterpillar among them drinking an ice tea just to contain the butterflies in his stomach — as I do the same while contemplating the unknown that lies before me. Some very poignant moments.

Now who the fuck is playing the cello and ukulele?!