I cross the small bridge in my neighborhood. The wind brushes my face and I love the rush I get when I go down the slope. I see some trees nestled near the bridge and houses. Wouldn't it be so cool if I sat under the trees during the nice weather to read a book or write in my journal? That sounds like what happens in movies. I should make that my hideout spot or sit in that place for a good amount of time before I head off to college. You know, it would be cool if I could have private conversations with close friends there. Unfortunately, that movie-like scene has not happened yet.
After crossing the middle school, I turn left to Lawrence Road, a place where suburbia and the countryside blur together as one. I see some joggers and walkers, with some of them being familiar strangers. Who is that lady with a cane? What is her story?
After I reach the dead end of the country road and turn back, something feels different and it is the same physical feeling I experience on every bike ride. My legs need to exert more energy as I bike back home and I breathe more rapidly. Why is this happening? The terrain seems to be flat and nothing changes, yet my body is acting like I am going on a hill. This thought regarding the paradox is a recurring one. It reminds me of my current situation where my senior year second semester has fewer assignments and instructional time, yet I do not feel more relaxed. The grind is still real.
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