eighty-seven

funny how years repeat themselves
but are so different, so different
see, this place was my life, last fall
it was the same dorm, the same people,
the same classes, the same teachers,
the same feelings
and so i keep remembering
all these flashes of me
this day, 365 days ago
and i'm happy to say that
things are different now
even in all of this sameness

a night like this
when friends were out
and no one was around
i would be sad, maybe crying
thinking of home and wishing for someone
journaling furiously
documenting every pained sentiment
of how my life had become suddenly
so uncomfortable

and tonight
i watch the night fall
light some incense
think about nothing
and i'm happy
happy?
happy.