Nothing Matters and Everything Is Divine

You wake up, it’s another day. You pick out what you’re wearing, dark denims, or linen pants. It does not matter, you’ll be too warm with jeans outside, too cold with linen inside. Hair up or down. It does not matter, you’ll feel the same about yourself either way. Walk to class, sceney Locust or quiet Spruce. It does not matter. 

You arrive at the Lerner Center, English class. Do you want to share your thoughts on the reading or stay silent. It does not matter, the words are already written, your interpretation one among hundreds, perhaps phrased with less eloquence, no less valid, no more significant. You take notes, blue pen or pencil? It does not matter, you won’t erase the mistakes anyway, you’ll strike through the words just as you would with ink. 

Should you talk to the girl next to you? She seems chill. It does not matter; every conversation is a faint attempt at connection, dissolving into a string of meaningless words. Class ends, earphones in, or walk and talk with your friend on Locust. It does not matter, either way, you’ll feel the same.

Walk now, steady, cross the street, down Locust, you pass Jaffe, what’s this building for. It does not matter, keep walking. The Button, LOVE, walk, walk, walk. The Compass, walk, walk. The bridge, walk, don’t breathe too loud on the incline, don’t let your hips swing too carelessly on the way down, you’ll look stupid. It does not matter. And now, cut through the volleyball court, or go straight and then right. It does not matter. The minute saved, the minute lost, they fade into the same nothingness.

You walk, either way. You arrive at the steps of Hillel. Keep moving. Follow the line. There, chicken wrap in hand. Lettuce or no lettuce? Jalapeño or no jalapeño? Garlic aioli or basil? A Hillel chicken wrap is a Hillel chicken wrap, all combinations as delicious as the next. So there and then, nothing matters and everything is divine.