I’m still in the middle of the episode, with expositions scattered around me and diverging paths that show no connection to one another.
I’m watching as intently as I can, with my rabbit beside me on the couch, my water bottle sitting next to me on the side table, and my tired eyes locked onto the screen.
I’m on season sixteen, and you’d think I’d have a clue of which way things are headed, but I somehow have no idea. In retrospect, I’ll see the pattern laid out in front of me. But, that’s a spoiler because as of right now, I’m completely lost.
I’m on season sixteen, and you’d think I’d have a clue of which way things are headed, but I somehow have no idea.
I watch the characters interact and the settings change. It’s like I’m rewatching the same scene again and again, and I have no problems with this; I only wish I could discern the pattern quickly.
Each morning, I wake up in a zone of comfort, more or less. I’m in my bedroom, and my comforter is my favorite color, and my ceiling is my sky. Then, my gratitude diminishes as I think of the upcoming day. I have to go to school.
My desire is established. I don’t want to go to school. I want to not go to school. School is the last place I want to be.
Suddenly, I’m at school. I’m in an unfamiliar situation, despite how familiar Mr. Garbowitz’s room may seem by now. Because there are variables. I’m alone in my bedroom, but I’m surrounded by people in first hour, many of whose names I cannot remember.
So, I go out in the hallway, once the lesson is done, and my world becomes smaller as I adapt to my environment. It’s just me, Evelyn, Sadie, and the green lockers. I repeat the unfamiliarity and the adapting until I move forward, and get what I want: I’m not at school anymore.
Then, the sucker punch.
I achieved my desires, and the price is knocking on my door, pleading to be paid. I’m home, but not for long, as I’m swept away to practices and appointments and side adventures.
Eventually, I make my way back to my comfort zone, under my pink comforter and my ceiling sky, but I’m not the same person I was a day ago.
And at that moment, it finally comes together. The comical C plot connects with the running B plot which finally collides with the predominant A plot. Everything makes sense, and all the seemingly unrelated pursuits are fitting together like puzzle pieces.
As the pieces fall into place before me, the sun sets. It all makes sense today, but it won’t make sense tomorrow. And it’ll repeat, episode after episode until my comfort zone shifts and my problems adapt.
