Conviction

"We have seven exams."

He said it with such fervour. The intensity in his eyes were like embers burning into mine. Now that I look back, maybe a part of me was intimidated, if only for a millisecond. To be escalated from a placid conversation to a point of such conviction was definitely unexpected. But, he was always a studious one, a lot of them seem to be. Myself, I care, of course. Just passing is no way to live after all. But my conception of good study habits doesn't necessitate a desperate obsession. And, maybe, just maybe, I'm being unfair to the particularly studious ones.

Maybe, it is not them, but me that is doing something wrong. They certainly are a dedicated bunch. Most of them work part-time jobs, while studying, and one even tries to keep up playing guitar for an hour a day. Me... I don't do jack shit anymore. I don't even try to play the guitar, despite not working and not having as many volunteer obligations anymore.

Where did the fire go? Did something extinguish it? Was it ever there in the first place? I don't ... really remember.

Maybe I do need a break...