Everything That Shines Isn't Gold

So what if my shoes are a bit worn, if I don't own more than a handful of towels, if I have to wait for my salary to buy paint to restore my wall? So what, what does it really matter? As long as I've got my music, got my friends, got a roof over my head and food on my table, as long as I'm ambitious with my studies, trying to learn outside of school, trying to develop myself as a rigger and an animator, as long as I've got words to get me by. It's like everything else is just distant, like I'm pushing all other responsibilities away. I've made the calls I need to make, I'm taking care of the details of moving to a new apartment, I'm taking care of myself and my life. I just spent a whole month on the west coast, near Strömstad, working at a nursery home, earning enough money to pay for my bills in both July and August. It's only right now that I don't have enough, only now that I'm living on borrowed money, only now that I'm really treating every penny with respect. I'm living off of money lent to me by Mom, which I feel bad about, because she had just scratched half of the debt I already had to her... I wish I didn't have to intrude on their money. I don't think of myself as poor, just the way every student is; but I do wish that sometimes, for once, I could buy something without gasping over the price tag first, that I could buy something that was brand new and wasn't found on a sale rack, that I could join a friend for spontaneous lunch; just every once in a while. I'm so scared I won't find a job when I graduate from university, so scared I WILL find one and fall back into the comfort of having a job, forgetting everything I strived for when I knew what money was worth. I'm so puzzled and worried about distant things, at the same time I can't seem to get myself together and sort my remaining stuff before moving or washing a plate after I used it. I hope that I'll be able to stick to all my principles, stick to all those beliefs I have about the world and the people in it, about myself and about what living is worth.

What if I wake up, years from now, and realize I've become a vegetable, completely deadened to everything that used to cut and tear?

POET IN THE JAR