Niche

I miss academe.

I miss the kind of conversation that does not have to include love life or sex life or gender preferences of anyone in order to make it satisfying.

I miss coffee and coffee shops and pasta. I miss the trading of ideas, the heated exchanges, and the capability of the actors not to take any of these personally.

I miss how we can still interact — free from subjectivisms and reservations — after we have dismembered our theoretical foundations.

I miss how, on the ruins of it, we construct a socially relevant and revolutionary one.

I miss how we can actually do all these over and over and over — without secretly despising each other.

I miss the freedom to voice out criticisms and I miss those who can take criticisms constructively.

I miss those who are humble enough to recognize their limitations, those who understand their regular need for improvement.

I miss those who have the courage to admit their mistakes and those who possess the strength to rectify their errors.

I miss the skills and the maturity to handle all these without resorting to personal and groundless attacks — the amount of money on your bank account, hasty diagnosis of your loneliness, callous conclusion about your character.

I miss the sense of accomplishment.

I miss the certainty that you can lay your weaknesses at your weakest days, when you can no longer hold your pieces together. And I miss the confidence that you can do it with an assurance that whoever sees this not-so-lovable-part-of-your-soul will never hold it against you.

I miss this niche.

I am so exhausted.
And I miss
not feeling exhausted
at all.

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