O Setshogelo, 49055275  

Blog Entry: Learning Activity 2  

My senses awaken to the gentle melody of morning as the first rays of dawn poke through the curtains, luring me from the depths of sleep.  Part of my morning routine consists of my lethargic self, mindlessly scrolling through Tik Tok. Violently popping up today on my For You Page was a slideshow of stills from the film ‘Call Me By Your Name’. The song that was used, ‘Futile Devices’ by Sufjan Stevens, embracingly engulphed me into the alluring beautiful Crema and suddenly I was 16 years old, with nothing on except my underwear laying on my back watching ‘Call Me By Your Name’, it’s a gorgeous balmy day and I’m lying there without a care in the world, no academic stress whatsoever. How evocative the feeling was and at the same time Elio’s mother from the film recites a thought-provoking line from a 16th Century romance; “is it better to speak or to die”. The feeling was so vivid that it left a cavity, a pit of limerence in my gut. My limbs leaning lazily on the pristine wool sheets, I regretfully bid my bed farewell, its soothing warmth enveloping me.  

I prepare myself for a rather dread inducing day. I don’t grab anything to eat, ironically, I feel satiated even though there is a cavity growing abruptly in my stomach. As I step into campus, the lively atmosphere of academics comes alive on the university grounds. In the hallowed halls of the Social Anthropology classroom, a breathtaking goddess walks in, and my bosom flows with vehemence and all of a sudden, I'm struck and rendered immobile. Out of nowhere; “is it better to speak or to die”, the line lingers and parades in my hollow empty skull as I watch her pass by. “Should I introduce myself and confess my undying love to the goddess or do I die”, I ponder.  

I would’ve stopped there with this blog if I confessed, because nothing would matter, only her. But I chose to die. I can't help but be pulled to the well-known commotion of the campus café after class, where the aroma of warm pastries and the sound of laughter envelop me. The sounds of companionship and connection—the clink of porcelain cups, the hiss of the espresso machine, the soft murmur of conversation—combine to create a beautiful symphony.    

Back in the sanctuary of my room, I sink into the welcoming embrace of my bed. I spent my day faded and anaemic, you could see in my face I haven't been eating, I’m just wasting away. And as sleep claims me, “is it better to speak or to die”.