Madness in a Tunnel

It's funny the way that finals can stir an impenetrable madness within us. For ten weeks we learn so much and then in two hours we are supposed to spit it all back out. Sometimes we spit it out into fifty little boxes on a scantron, sometimes we spit it out onto ten pages of writing and other times we spit it out in a powerpoint presentation defending all that we've learned. No matter what form of proving that we've learned something this quarter, it will still drive us mad. We are driven to a point of insanity where the littlest action can cause huge amounts of hurt, but other small actions can cause huge amounts of encouragement. No matter what your intentions are, you can always be guaranteed that you will inflict some sort of emotion that will make your story just a little bit deeper.

Even when we don't want to feel the way we do, when we say things we don't mean and when we do things we never would have predicted, the result is this: it happens anyway. I've decided that a quarter of school is like a tunnel. You plunge in, leaving the peace and certainty of what has passed and entering a place where you can only see what's right in front of you. It's a long tunnel, too...about nine weeks of darkness. But a quarter is ten and a half weeks long which leaves us with one and a half weeks of beautiful light.

If there's anything I've noticed this quarter, it's the idea of darkness and light and how, without one, you will never see the beauty of the other. Yes, light all the time sounds like a great thing, but you'll never know how truly wonderful it is unless you've felt the fear of darkness. And yes, darkness all the time sounds terrifying, but you would never know it was fear if it's the only thing you ever felt. I am appreciative of the things that have challenged me this quarter because they created moments of absolute beauty that never would have been so beautiful had it not been for the other feelings of hurt. Many of my weeks have been lived out with a very heavy heart as I realize I am changing, that my friends are changing and that the world I live in is not going to remain the same. There is a constant hope, though, that things always get better.

I think if Spring Break had come even a day later, I would not have made it through. I saw it, not just as a break, but as an escape. An escape from my mind that was on the verge of boiling over. There were thousands of thoughts and words, racing through my brain every second of the day for the last five weeks of school. Questions about the future. Questions about school. Questions about the world. Questions about relationships. All of them questions without answers. By the end of it all, people would ask me how I was, I would respond with an "Augh!" and a shake of my head. And they would nod their heads in agreement-I can tell that I am not alone in my feelings.

So now here I am, at the beginning of Spring Break with a heart that is able to rest a little easier, knowing that a break is the perfect medicine. No, I don't know the answers, but I don't need to...not yet. That's what time is for. Time is for letting life run its natural course and letting it answer our questions. Yes, it is a bit maddening to wait, but life is full of lessons. I like a lot of these lessons, but the one I struggle with day after day is patience. But, it too will come with time. All in due time. All in due time.