My So-called Life VII

It felt kinda weird waking up in a different room, at such an early time. I woke up before my alarm clock, but I bet I’ll end up falling asleep later in the afternoon anyway.

I felt an urge to express my individuality when I was here on my own, after a dinner with my parents the other night. It was my first time ever putting up a poster.

A pitiful flag for individualism, but it’s sufficient for my own purposes.

For the most part, I never really felt individualistic until I began going to university; no one really cares who you are, so you’d might as well feel that way about everyone else. However, I haven’t resorted to converting to a Torontonian way of life, where courtesy is out of the question. I still feel like that little suburbia boy that wouldn’t know better to walk down a dark alley, late at night. Of course, I’m not that stupid.

It never really came to me, however, that I could be purging conquest on this world with the time I had inhabiting a edification, or a house of some sort. Even though I’ve been living at my house for nearly 12 years, it never really crossed my mind to make a room my own; it was just a chamber that I slept in. It wasn’t a place I retreated in times of turmoil or the place I would stay in when I need space to myself. It was just a vessel that housed me to rejuvenate me for the next day.

I feel like moving into university was a little less of that, and a little more of individualism. That’s probably one reason why I like being here more; it gave me a reason to feel like an individual rather than an icon of a group called Family.

That doesn’t mean I’m thinking of becoming radical, though. I have my limits, and I’m just going to skip around within them. I might flaunt and feint at the barrier, but by no means would I ever need to cross it. I’m not alive to prove anything. I’m alive because I’m supposed to live.

Sometimes I wonder why people bother trying to make a point when, really, they’re sleeping in studying quarters and really couldn’t do much otherwise except dig their faces into books and drink.

I wonder what it would take to breach this barrier, but I’m not quite in the mood to try. Then again, my lethargic mind doesn’t bother. Rather than finding the trouble to try and cross it with some sort of prestige, I’d rather move the barrier itself. It’s a lot less temporary.

I’m going to march my individualistic self outside and conform into one of them again. I’ll be back when the sun comes up.