Onion Layers

I suppose I am going down to one post a month. That is unfortunate. It's not intentional. It's only that, as a my studies pile up, I feel guilty writing anything that will not get turned in and graded.
I forget, you see, that I need to be able to write things, now and then at least, that will not be graded. Something for which there is no deadline, no pressure, and perhaps not even any logic.

I am so tired today. I am so afraid of going out of my depth, so afraid that I will fail, so afraid of making the wrong decision. I want to be left alone, for people to stop asking me to do things.
But I know that these pains are only growing pains. I am learning so much, about school and friends and writing and..... and, and, and. I don't feel like a grown up, but I am learning to act like one. I think. At any rate, I am becoming more and more familiar with the word "responsibility."

There anxiety is in the air... I feel a low, intense anxiety that has been mounting over the election. I couldn't breath for a minute today when I realized how soon judgment would finally be passed on who will be the next president. I never felt this emotionally or intellectually invested in an election before. Registration has also added another layer of stressful frenzy as we all try and decide what to take, and compete to get into classes of limited capacity. Not only that, this is crunch time. The tough last push of the semester for all of us, students and teachers I think.

Today I watched a group of children from my window (as some children do inexplicably show up on campus now and then). They were with a man who was helping then rake a fantastic leaf pile right in front of my dorm. Through the open window I could hear their shouts of delight and exuberance, and the rustle of leaves. One little boy was practically dancing around the leaf pile in his excitement. I was absolutely mesmerized by this scene, sitting at my desk where I had been trying to cram in last minute facts for my Biology test. More than anything I wanted to be down there too, laughing and demanding for my turn to jump. I was jealous of their abandon, and the intensity with which they loved that leaf pile. It was, for that moment, everything to them.

I do not have very many moments anymore that are simple and focused. I get them, little moments of pleasure when I am joking with a friend, or perhaps cooking a meal for myself here and there. But layers of complexity generally permeate my life these days. It feels like a gift and a curse, sometimes. There is such a burden, sometimes, in seeing so many different sides to things, and in feeling so many different emotions. However, I find there are some subliminal moments in realizing the complexity of something. The light bulb goes off, and I realize there is so much more to all this than I realize. Complexity keeps things interesting, keeps me on my toes. I think that is really what I am learning, and I think that is what is really so painful. When I peel back one layer to see what is underneath, another one awaits. Just like an onion. And yes, sometimes it makes me cry. At this point, though, I can't stop.