I'm Content

I was thinking about First World Problems yesterday. I read this random Internet graphic saying something along the lines of 'if you have food to eat, you're luckier than 75% of the people on earth' and a ton of stuff like that. And I was like, "OK, then how come us First-Worlders have such a high rate of depression? I mean, yeah, I get a First-World depressed kid if they come from an abusive home or something, but what about someone like me? I live in a stable, middle-class family, I go to one of the best schools in America [not kidding, our school's like 970th place. And the principal never shuts up about it], I'm effing brilliant, and here I am, on one of my two computers, crying over God-knows-what. Why?"

And I'd normally come up with some BS reason like, oh, it is difficult to compare oneself with starving children when they are so far away, or the contentment of a soul does not depend on physical stability but emotional as well, etc etc. But you know what, I just can't.

... Do you know how long a flight is to Italy? 12 hours. Do you know how much it costs? Like $600 on the cheaper flights. I have more than six hundred dollars in the bank. Technically, Italy's as close as anything. Granted, I can't actually go there, because I'm fifteen and I need my parents to approve it which will never ever happen, but it's not like I'll never go there again.

Right now, I'm lying in bed, in my dim room, as the sun sets in the hazy blue sky outside. A slight glow of blue light is drifting in through my window. I decided to listen to Simon and Garfunkel's 'The Sound of Silence', which only a day ago I could barely bear to listen to because I would burst into tears- I heard it on a bus ride during sunrise in Assisi, and the mere sound of it brings me back to Italy ever so sharply.
So I started playing it, then clicked into Google, where my background is a picture of Assisi. And I stared at it contentedly.
Because you know what? I was lucky to go to Italy at all. And you know what? Three years is not a long time to wait. And you know what else? My life is not so bad here. And you know something else? I'm actually pretty happy here. I have a family that supports my dreams, which is more than my classmates can say; I get to take classes I love in school, which is also more than my classmates can say; I know precisely what I want to do with my life (again); and I may not have Sisterhood-of-the-Traveling-Pants best friends but who does? I have people who are willing to be seen with me in public, and trust me, that is enough for someone like me.
And when I finally board the plane to go back home, I might actually say goodbye to this little small town. Because yeah, it's been a part of my life. Just like Italy has.
So I'm content with my life. Which is more than a lot of people can say.

And I do have a poem for you, my dearie-ducks (I adore British nicknames- much better than 'nonexistent readers'): Something from my procrastination story, The Wishmaker. (For the prologue, check out the little tab thingy at the top of the page).
Here ya go, and then I MUST MUST MUST study for chemistry and also eat something, I'm starving:

Wishmaker Poem

For years I wondered

         For eras I hoped

         Now I have an inkling of light

         After I already shut the door

         To provide only my candle’s flame,

         Not the sun,

         To me.

         The wish died on pages and pages and words

         Leaving only an itching, a longing

         To see her life’s worth

         To relieve that gnawing grief.

         Green, green

         Like worlds of grass under my feet

         Whistling in the dancing wind

         I shall see

         Tomorrow

         I shall see

         Tomorrow.

Anywho. Yeah. Sheesh, I've been eating nothing lately. Normally I, like, stuff myself with food on the weekends, but this weekend I've been like, "la la la, breakfast of a cookie, write all day, dinner of a fruit." Which is weird, because I eat WAY too much usually.
This got brought up because I'm starving. Yeah, the Writing Diet... write all day and forget to eat.
Anywho, the cutesy dim blue haze is turning into super darkness, and I STILL have to study for my chem test tomorrow, so goodbye.
From your content poet,
magic*esi

UPDATES FROM THE FUTURE: I do think Italy is a beautiful country, but I don't think it's my "home" anymore or anything. Also, The Wishmaker is no longer a "procrastination story."