What Other-World Are You Disappearing Into?
Sitting at this desk here in the college lounge, alive to the sounds and motions around me, I couldn’t help but look up as you walked by. Your feet were thudding fast against the hollow-sounding floor. You leaned forward into an imaginary wind as your feet shuffled along . . .
. . . only there was no wind, not in a building, and certainly not on the third floor balcony lounge.
You were listening to music through your tiny earphones. I wanted to stop you and tell you that the buzzing from your earphones was actually quite noticeable, but I didn’t.
Why . . . Perhaps its because I am forever the observer, the watcher. Curious, but not curious enough. Always watching, but unable to act.
You had this fixed look on your face, almost as if you were slouched in front of a TV, glued to something strange running across it’s screen. Only, you weren’t in front of a TV, but rather moving through the building at quite a good clip. It’s a strange way to walk. I almost felt like you were in another world completely, mesmerized by wherever you were going to the tune of the music you were listening too. With your glazed eyes, half-open smile, and completely blank, other-world expression, I wondered where in the world you were from . . . or where you were bound for.
Does college do strange things to people, or do strange people come to college? Or perhaps, I’m the strange one. Perhaps I’ve been left behind in a world becoming so wrapped up in all that isn’t this world. Pardon me if I voice concern . . . and . . . curiosity. What world have you disappeared into? Is it safe to follow? And how long will that world you are in last?
Without people in this world, working in this world, fighting in this world, achieving in this world, that other-world you are in will crumble. No more music, no more TV, no more spare time or carefree spending. That world you are in is built on the backs of people who are very-present in this real world. Only these people are growing older and are looking to pass the baton. I beg of you, wake up, look around. Turn off your music, open your eyes, stop, think . . .
. . . before it’s too late.