Some days, I walk out of school smiling. Some days, I walk out of school smiling and six hours later I’m still smiling and bed time comes around and I’m smiling and I go to sleep and I dream, and I’m smiling. My eyes are burning and my head is heavy and my hands are shaking and my lip is bleeding from my tooth digging in just a little too hard and my cheeks are aching, and I am smiling.
Some days, I’m standing with friends, needed. Some days, I bring my laptop home to work ahead, needed, and on my third cup of coffee, needed, and at midnight distracted from my screen by stars, needed. My voice is too loud and my eyes too wild and my words too long and my legs too eager and my fingers too busy and I am needed.
Some days, she walked out of school softly. Some days, she walked out of school with her head ducked and her thoughts hyper focused on the sound her shoes made when they hit the tile floor. Some days, she stood alone. Waited for what could be. Went to bed early. A heart too hopeful and a mind too full and quiet eyes that looked out windows and saw skylines, faraway places, superimposed lands only realistic to a nomad.
Some days, I remember her. Some days, I walk out of school smiling and I hear the sounds of shoes on tiles, too loud. Some days, I’m standing with friends, needed, and I see shifting eyes seeking a place. Some days, I feel pride and I remember gel pen countdowns, grandiose plans, skylines doodled in the corner of the paper, and I am smiling.