journeying

my grandma
makes the best mung bean sweet rice.

it makes for
a great breakfast.

apparently,
when i'm not feeling
particularly well-balanced,
psychologically,
i like to write in
stanzaic prose.

it is the same
as i am in real life,
i suppose.

when i'm feeling
out of sorts --
and don't want
to deal with
people
and the world --

i stop talking.

i don't say more
than i have to.

and so it is here. . . .

after posting yesterday,
i cried.
it was my first time
since i found out.

i waited until my lunch hour,
then closed
the door --
and cried into toilet paper
that i stole from the women's bathroom
(for some reason,
we are not provided
with kleenex).

i cried a little more
before i went home --

and then i cried myself
to sleep --
my pillow wet and warm
'neath my cheek.

i guess
i've been waiting to cry
about it --
waiting
since friday.

and i still don't think i'm done
with tears.
i am still too full of pity
for myself.

but i'm sure it's
just a phase.

is there meaning in failure?

does it mean you keep trying
until you succeed?

or does it mean
you find another mountain
to climb?
something more easily
surmountable --
more suited to
one's abilities?

how can something
i was never sure i wanted to do
still cause me pain
and make me feel
not good enough?

where do i go from here?

--try again?
--try in another state?
--fuck it all and go to grad school?
--fuck this and grad school, and just stay at my job?
--kill myself?

i can do anything --
but i will not be content
until i am there,
until i am esquired.

nothing else matters.

i was blase about it
before.
but it was kinda
a front.

for some reason,
i like frontin'.

i knew i would be disappointed --
but i did not think i'd be
this disappointed. . . .

it is bittersweet
to read posts from
other formerly suffering
repeaters --
tips on
how they studied,
how they passed.

i can't read those.

i should.

i should read them,
see if i can learn from them.

but i can't.

nonetheless,
i have to say
to those who passed,
you guys rock.
you kicked this thing's ass.
and no bunch of people deserve it more
than you guys do.

you
are free.

:)

i just wish i could have done it, too . . . .

nonetheless,
i am glad your journey
is over.
we traversed
the nightmare
together.

it's kinda like
journeying through
the underworld of hades.

we were the undead --
seeking salvation --
seeking a way to cross
into the sweet hereafter,
out of the terrible,
hopeless
abyss
of the underworld.

we sat in the ferry together,
tensely,
apprehensively,
as we glided seamlessly
across a lifeless river,
from one shore to the other --
a long journey.

and finally the ferry
touched shore.
and the few
who had sufficiently paid their due
were allowed to disembark
(35% overall) --
and make their way
to the promised land.

the majority of us
(65%) who have not crossed over
must make our way back
to the other side
and try to cross over
again.

it's great to now see
a lot of you who i've journeyed with
on that other shore.

i'm waving
my goodbye
to you even as i watch
you recede
to the glittering horizon.
you are where you belong --
but unlike those who took the journey
but never encountered our troubles,
i know you'll remember and never forget
the price you paid
to make it there --
the promised land.

me --
i wave my goodbye
but cannot turn and
look away.

where you are
is such an amazing sight.

it is beautiful on that side.
i see a bright golden sun,
lush greenery,
everything a-glow with
richness
and contentment.

i can also see
the shadow of
sweet lady justice --
staff in one hand
to show she rules --
sword in the other
to mete swift justice --
and the shadowy wisp
of her blindfold
to prove that she
rules fairly,
equally,
objectively.

you are now
members of her
loathed/loved/feared
army.

i cannot turn away from the sight
there in the promised land --
i do not want to see what
i am returning to.
i already know --
darkness,
hopelessness,
fear,
disappointment,
shame.

there are those
who are not meant
to cross over.

there are those
who are destined
to remain
as they are.

there are those
who must remain
lost to the darkness.

will i ever be able
to find the light?

shall i seek the light
elsewhere?

or is darkness
where i truly
belong?