Literature can be Loathsome

The infinite, arduous quest

For knowledge that only benefits my grade,

Begins here in this jungle

Of imposing shelves and thick, lengthy books.

My time should be spent relaxing here,

Not being voluntarily trapped in a prison

Of books holding boring knowledge.

I should be curled up on a soft sofa,

Reading to my heart’s content.

Instead, I am hunched over, scanning my eyes with effort

To find information,

Studying at a circular table

That does not give room

For more than three textbooks

And tall stacks of assignment papers.

The grossing amount of people gathering here,

Some literate, some lazy,

All I call inconveniences

In my factual search.

Loitering around, talking about nothing,

 Their noise attacking my brain,

Which tries to navigate my attention

Through the murky sea of higher learning

That lies before me,

Saying, “I am your warden in this prison!

I do not care

If there are books placed in the wrong sections.

I do not care

If there are sticky stains on this table.

I do not care

If there are people shouting, sleeping,

Or passionately expressing their love to each other.

You must obey me

And READ!”

I have no choice,

For I am trapped in this purgatory,

Where the sunlight bakes down on my neck;

Where the security scanner goes off

Even when books have been thoroughly checked out.

I am glad I chose today

To avoid working in the Media Resource Room,

Where socially awkward students

Would meet to do unmentionable things,

Use unspeakable language,

Or simply sit in silence

Only because they are wrongfully secure in their thoughts

That this room is a secret haven

For their misguided emotions to run loose.

“Thirty more minutes,” the librarian yells.

Good, some people are starting to leave.

Maybe now I can study quietly…

“Ten more minutes,” the librarian yells again.

What?! No, wait! I need more time!

Focus! I need just a little more…

“Five more minutes, kids!”

Hold on! I just need three more facts!

They’re hidden somewhere on these last ten pages.

Hiding from me…mocking me with their cleverness.

“Two minutes, guys, two minutes!”

Arrrgh, this is hopeless!

Maybe if I could skip over a couple of paragraphs,

Skim through here, analyze there…

Hey, I’ve got it!

Now all I have to do is paraphrase it and…

“Excuse me, young man,

The library closed a minute ago.

It’s time for you to leave.”

I close my book, knowing very well,

That there is no use arguing with a librarian,

Who has been preparing this whole time to return to their life,

 Waiting so long for daily freedom.

I sigh as I tow the book over to the shelves,

Almost throwing it in frustration.

I don’t have time to finish this up at home.

My schedule is already booked with other time-consuming assignments.

I sulk towards the wide, heavy doors,

Ready to leave this poor excuse for an intellectual haven

Behind me,

Yet longing for extended use of its reliable resources.

Before I walk out, I hear one of the librarians say,

“I hope you enjoyed studying here!”

If by enjoy, they mean slaving over a one-ton textbook,

Searching for answers lost in a sea of words, distractions, blinding sunlight, and the watchful eye

Of a mischievous clock,

That decides at times to slow down

Or speed up,

Solely to taunt me with its control of time itself.

I force a smile and say,

                                                         “I enjoyed it. Thank you so much!”