this blog is going to be about my friend situation. or, lack thereof. if you actually read this whole thing, i'll blush from head to toe.
let me just start by saying that i was, if such a thing exists, bred to be a best friend. i care without regret, i give up my own worries for a friend, and i will always be there faster than you can say quidditch. however, some people in my life have thrown these qualities aside, maybe with good reason and maybe without.
it all really started when i was in fourth grade. sure, i'd had friends up until that point and we would have sleepovers every other weekend like most girls our age. i even had what was very close to a best friend, if playing barbies and laughing over the cuteness factors of each other's brothers is considered best friendship. and i guess it is when you're little like that. but it wasn't until fourth grade that i found myself with a real and honest best friend, danielle.
danielle and i spent all of our time together. if i was exagerrating at all, that 'all' wouldn't be in italics. i really mean all when i say it. we literally begged the principals of the three schools we passed through together (middle school, junior high, high school) to place us in the same homeroom before the new year started. granted, this never happened, but danielle and i still managed to find time to make our friendship blossom. we'd pretend to take notes in class, even classes we really enjoyed, and actually scribble lengthy notes to each other that we'd exchange in between periods.
just seeing her handwriting address me would make my day, make me smile and be able to survive the school day without seeing her at lunch. she slept over my house every single weekend, and i'm not sure if you could even call them sleepovers. she would literally ride my bus home every friday and stay until sunday night because her mother didn't want her home. it was an escape for her, which was probably why it hurt so much when she told me she'd basically lied about that.
i guess what hit me the hardest was how in our five years of friendship, i grew to really admire danielle. this wasn't the first time i'd crushed on a girl, but it was the most serious i suppose. i literally was like a clueless puppet of a boy while we were friends, and i didn't interpret my feelings to be overly relevant to anything. so when our differences clashed and she told me she needed space, i never did talk to her again. we were freshmen then and now we're seniors and she's in cyber school, and i haven't seen her a day since. i can't believe it's been four years since i always assumed we'd be best friends until the day we hit the manor home, but that's just life i guess.
right after danielle and i ceased to be friends, about a month or two after actually, when we still avoided eye contact at all possible times in the homeroom we were finally and ironically placed together in in ninth grade, i got a friend request on myspace. at the time, myspace was still really popular and i just assumed it was some other girl who found humor in the fact that i adored a book series enough to convince all of my 500 phony social networking friends that weasley was my real last name.
this girl's name was ivy. she and i began posting on each other's comment sections back and forth, talking about harry potter and our lives in general. we then took our conversation to AIM, another internet facet that's also pretty much dead now. from november until the next june, ivy and i waited desperately to be able to meet each other in person. she lives in southwest virginia and me in southwest pennsylvania, approximately seven hours apart. the amount of traits and interests i had in common with ivy verged on absurdity. we could finish each other's sentences and mention almost any miniscule detail of the harry potter series and know exactly what the other spoke of.
we were supposed to meet in march of 2008 but our plans collapsed, leaving us moping in tears for a week after we'd counted down the days for so long in excitement for our long awaited tackle hug. eventually, though, on the last day of my freshman year of high school, my mom drove me the seven hours and i got to meet ivy in the middle of a deserted virginian walmart parking lot at one in the morning.
i lived with that girl until august. we went to our first harry potter convention together, and no words could ever do justice the feeling of missing that place. we were like sisters, joined at the hip, and it was all our mothers could do not to start to believe that they had gained another daughter. eventually, ivy had to go back home and i didn't see her until the october after that. and i still haven't seen her since that october. it's been twenty four months since i've seen her, and obviously we aren't close like we used to be. we can't even really hold a conversation without getting sidetracked and shutting up.
then came several collab channels i was on on youtube, where the members and i were supposed to be friends. right now i'm on http://www.youtube.com/generationofawesome, where i haven't even been a day of their cycle of over 14 members for a month or so. within a couple weeks i felt like the bane of the existence of the channel and all because i fell in crush like. which is a totally stupid reason, but now it seems i'm never allowing myself happiness again because of it. literally, i'm too bitter to accept that anyone else on the channel is happy or good spirited or any of that jazz.
sure, we're all supposed to be friends. but we're not, and there's no way you can make fourteen strangers be best friends over the internet unless they have the will to. which they obviously don't. i'm desperately in need of a best friend, and i was getting close there for a while until shit fell down on me. i don't know what i did to deserve that, but now i can't talk to anyone about anything remotely serious. my friends will literally not respond to me if i'm upset. i could be five seconds away from suicide and they'd close their phones and roll their eyes.
it just seems like i've gone too long without someone close like a best friend. it's like that saying that when one door closes, another opens. and one door closed. so i'm waiting for the other one to open. but i'm walking down this huge ass hallway that never ends because there is no other door. i refuse to settle for loneliness. i am no luna. i need friends to thrive. college, hurry the hell up. and make sure i'm not like this when i attend you.
honestly, i'm not even best friendless right now. i'm just plain old friendless. i used to at least have friends that i could pretend really liked me, but now all i have is a book i've read a million times through and a bunch of DVDs that reduce me to tears. i'm not even cool enough for the sweatpants and pint of ice cream. who am i, anyway? my friend had a lady gaga party the other day. i am one of the world's biggest gaga enthusiasts. why wasn't i invited? because i'm nameless. okay! cool. enough bitching for today.
23 October 2010
22 October 2010
one less
one less worry, one less regret
one less friend i've never met
two more fears and a thousand more tears
a hundred more miles and no more smiles
the telephone rings off the hook
you water wilted flowers,
ignore the dead dogwood
enchanted gardens fall to negligence,
dug under the dirt of two thousand and eight
until you put the turn signal of happiness on
you say you've got to have the will
but when will is exchanged for won't
will you live up to what you push?
a voice tells me you'll be one less
one less beacon of light,
when so many down the hall have flickered out
but i hope you end up considering the wilted hydrangea
since you never took the time for trees like me
one less friend i've never met
two more fears and a thousand more tears
a hundred more miles and no more smiles
the telephone rings off the hook
you water wilted flowers,
ignore the dead dogwood
enchanted gardens fall to negligence,
dug under the dirt of two thousand and eight
until you put the turn signal of happiness on
you say you've got to have the will
but when will is exchanged for won't
will you live up to what you push?
a voice tells me you'll be one less
one less beacon of light,
when so many down the hall have flickered out
but i hope you end up considering the wilted hydrangea
since you never took the time for trees like me
21 October 2010
because i have the time
and the negativity needs to flow out in some other way than what i had planned.
i hate your boyfriend. i hate how he stole you from me without even trying. i hate not knowing whether he tried or not. i hate the way you're so self centered anymore. you're not yourself. i hate how all you can focus on is who we used to be and not what we could amount to. i hate those stupid metal bands that i paid to hear, worthless. i hate your obsessions. i hate your "real" friends. i hate that you move in with someone i can't stand. i hate that all of my friends are closer with each other than i am to any of them. i hate that no matter how long i talk for it seems that i am making no difference or impression upon my listener. i hate that i need to resort to blogging to get my feelings out because no one else will listen to me. i haet angst. i hate being a teenager. i hate hate. i hate the cheesy nutcracker collection that line the shelves above this computer in my brother's room. i hate the facebook messages. i hate the way my friends get idolized for having talent. i hate the way i'm jealous. i hate how you still hang out with your ex girlfriend and pay me no mind. i hate that you don't realize that i like girls. i hate that i like girls. i hate that i hate that. i hate that i've made myself get over all the girls i've fallen for, without hardly trying. i hate never having found one that changed my mind. i hate having to wait 11 more months for anything to change. i hate the fact that i might not even get accepted. i hate that you'll do long distance for anyone that's not me. i hate that you stole from me, lied to me. i hate that you broke my heart. i hate that i told so many people and assumed they'd care. i hate when i'm in a good mood and gush about it and then regret it later because i knew your lack of enthusiasm stemmed from your anticpation of my next heated rant. i hate being a leo. i hate being feisty. i hate being unappreciate, selfish, uncouth. i hate being shy, outspoken, the underdog. i hate being me and i hate being you, i hate that you try to be me. i hate that you moved on to bigger and better things when that is me. i hate that you won't listen to me when you're all i have left here. i hate that i felt the need to write this. i hate that none of my friends really know me. i hate that my thighs ache with soreness, my heart with longing, my head with the cold, and my fingers from writing. i hate that i'm sitting where you sat.
i hate your boyfriend. i hate how he stole you from me without even trying. i hate not knowing whether he tried or not. i hate the way you're so self centered anymore. you're not yourself. i hate how all you can focus on is who we used to be and not what we could amount to. i hate those stupid metal bands that i paid to hear, worthless. i hate your obsessions. i hate your "real" friends. i hate that you move in with someone i can't stand. i hate that all of my friends are closer with each other than i am to any of them. i hate that no matter how long i talk for it seems that i am making no difference or impression upon my listener. i hate that i need to resort to blogging to get my feelings out because no one else will listen to me. i haet angst. i hate being a teenager. i hate hate. i hate the cheesy nutcracker collection that line the shelves above this computer in my brother's room. i hate the facebook messages. i hate the way my friends get idolized for having talent. i hate the way i'm jealous. i hate how you still hang out with your ex girlfriend and pay me no mind. i hate that you don't realize that i like girls. i hate that i like girls. i hate that i hate that. i hate that i've made myself get over all the girls i've fallen for, without hardly trying. i hate never having found one that changed my mind. i hate having to wait 11 more months for anything to change. i hate the fact that i might not even get accepted. i hate that you'll do long distance for anyone that's not me. i hate that you stole from me, lied to me. i hate that you broke my heart. i hate that i told so many people and assumed they'd care. i hate when i'm in a good mood and gush about it and then regret it later because i knew your lack of enthusiasm stemmed from your anticpation of my next heated rant. i hate being a leo. i hate being feisty. i hate being unappreciate, selfish, uncouth. i hate being shy, outspoken, the underdog. i hate being me and i hate being you, i hate that you try to be me. i hate that you moved on to bigger and better things when that is me. i hate that you won't listen to me when you're all i have left here. i hate that i felt the need to write this. i hate that none of my friends really know me. i hate that my thighs ache with soreness, my heart with longing, my head with the cold, and my fingers from writing. i hate that i'm sitting where you sat.
2010...
...has been pretty crappy. i'm really crossing my fingers in hopes that 2011 will get better. i know i have to do something about it for this to happen; good times just don't voluntarily spring up in fields of daisies, however i'm finding less and less will to do so. it seems every time i reach out to grasp a miracle it's slipped out of my touch. regrettably i have fallen into the mindset of rejection being the only possible outcome. like so many deadbeat office workers, i have succumbed to the societal norm of depression and would rather lie in bed with my thoughts than speak with a happy and healthy human being. it's not just a question of "what's wrong with me?", but "what the hell is wrong with the world?"
i really just despise people. everywhere i turn human beings are constantly relying on themselves and folding under pressure of a society that doesn't look twice upon its prey. if only we had ground and reason to trust more, we would be happier people. i wouldn't have to be jealous of my friends just for being close with each other. no one would have to go out of their way to slight anyone because envy wouldn't exist. more than love, envy makes you do crazy things. great, maybe, but terrible.
it's seemed for a while now that it is not possible for me to voice my opinions without either a) coming off as a huge bitch, b) being ignored by close friends, c) getting into arguments, or d) coming off as a huge bitch. did i already mention that? i'm so sorry. i know people say they hate high school, but i'm terrified of being stuck in this rut during college too. it literally feels like my brain was drowned, wrung out, and hung on the line to dry. except it's not drying. it's a waterlogged room of insanity.
i never know what to say, and sometimes this is the scariest thing in the world. i say more things than others do occasionally, more honest things, but that's because they spill out of my mouth or my keyboard before i have the chance to stop them. i don't mean to tell the truth sometimes, but the atmosphere that my friends have surrounded me with seems like it gives me the chance to be myself. but what happens when that goes on too much, gets carried too far? i didn't even think that was possible. apparently i was missing out on a huge clue. whoopsy.
maybe it's just because i'm stuck where i'm living and i'm not kelly rowland's wife, but really, the world is so much more melancholy than it needs to be. you shouldn't have to be on the internet 24/7 to know that the world is beautiful. there should be an instinct in humans that lets them know that they're free to roam the world where they want to for whatever personal gain they seek. no one is restricted to their country, their city, their home, their school, and especially not their mind.
think outside the box and don't assume anyone's an insufferable bitch for having opinions. you don't always know where they come from, period.
i really just despise people. everywhere i turn human beings are constantly relying on themselves and folding under pressure of a society that doesn't look twice upon its prey. if only we had ground and reason to trust more, we would be happier people. i wouldn't have to be jealous of my friends just for being close with each other. no one would have to go out of their way to slight anyone because envy wouldn't exist. more than love, envy makes you do crazy things. great, maybe, but terrible.
it's seemed for a while now that it is not possible for me to voice my opinions without either a) coming off as a huge bitch, b) being ignored by close friends, c) getting into arguments, or d) coming off as a huge bitch. did i already mention that? i'm so sorry. i know people say they hate high school, but i'm terrified of being stuck in this rut during college too. it literally feels like my brain was drowned, wrung out, and hung on the line to dry. except it's not drying. it's a waterlogged room of insanity.
i never know what to say, and sometimes this is the scariest thing in the world. i say more things than others do occasionally, more honest things, but that's because they spill out of my mouth or my keyboard before i have the chance to stop them. i don't mean to tell the truth sometimes, but the atmosphere that my friends have surrounded me with seems like it gives me the chance to be myself. but what happens when that goes on too much, gets carried too far? i didn't even think that was possible. apparently i was missing out on a huge clue. whoopsy.
maybe it's just because i'm stuck where i'm living and i'm not kelly rowland's wife, but really, the world is so much more melancholy than it needs to be. you shouldn't have to be on the internet 24/7 to know that the world is beautiful. there should be an instinct in humans that lets them know that they're free to roam the world where they want to for whatever personal gain they seek. no one is restricted to their country, their city, their home, their school, and especially not their mind.
think outside the box and don't assume anyone's an insufferable bitch for having opinions. you don't always know where they come from, period.
20 October 2010
Lilacs.
At first I was going to blog about tattoos, and then I was going to blog about self-appreciation, but I settled on something far less important - scents. Literally, how things smell.
But before I begin, I just want to say that my hands are already numb from writing multiple college and scholarship essays today. Actually, I've written more in the past two hours than I have in quite a while. And there's so much more writing to go. For my second top choice in schools there's about three sections of writing due and I swear my brain is going to explode.
Right now I blog as shades of white, blue, and orange color the pixels on my desktop screen, the webcam faced away from everything because I'm terrified of Internet intruders, and Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone waiting dog-eared on the soft fleece blanket behind me. From the hallway my eight year old calico purrs like a lawnmower, settling into her favorite spot beneath the avalanche of laundry. Alright, so it's not that big yet, but avalanche seemed like a pretty intense word. I would say it's almost eighty degrees in my room - it's usually a sauna, but it's past the certain time of year where no matter how hot it gets my fleece blanket is always a necessity. So.. why does it feel like Christmas?
A strong scent of peppermint is drifting up the stairwell from the living room. I usually have some idea of what my mother is doing down there by the smells that rise upstairs, but I honestly have no idea what she's up to. It reminds me of the holidays when we just relax and suck on those swirly red-and-white mints and listen to Christmas music from when she was growing up. The plastic box is out right now full of Halloween decorations, but it might as well be full of candy canes and Santa hats instead of bats and grotesque masks.
These illusions are so interesting to me, when a certain smell possesses an almost magnetic force and pulls you right back to where you first breathed it in. Every time you inhale, the memories, no matter how dull they are, become fresh again, surface into the sticky pool of thought that is your brain. There has to be a reason why ever y time I smell a certain cologne I think of an ex, or every time I smell the summer rain I'm reflecting back on the time Alex and I danced in the downpour while our brownies in the oven got soggy.
A few minutes ago I was in my brother's room attempting to scout a new (old) coat since the temperature outside is dropping [and my arms get cold in October air]. I routed through bags and bags of plastic before I realized I was digging through summer things, not winter. Quick to catch on, I know. One bag was full of nothing but bathing suits, and leaning down close the beach from summers past still lingered in the strings that tied it together. Who knows how many years those swimsuits have been in there? It could have been only a few months and it could have been five years, but the scent was overpowering: sand could have been stuffed in that bag for all I knew.
My train of thoughts has been interrupted quite a lot since I started this blog, so I'm going to just start wrapping up before it becomes horrible. I want to remember a time before I had the friends I do now more vividly. I want there to be a smell that pulls me back to not just a certain time of year, not only a certain weather, but a carefree time. And carefree should smell like lilacs. Only more exotic. I've just decided.
But before I begin, I just want to say that my hands are already numb from writing multiple college and scholarship essays today. Actually, I've written more in the past two hours than I have in quite a while. And there's so much more writing to go. For my second top choice in schools there's about three sections of writing due and I swear my brain is going to explode.
Right now I blog as shades of white, blue, and orange color the pixels on my desktop screen, the webcam faced away from everything because I'm terrified of Internet intruders, and Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone waiting dog-eared on the soft fleece blanket behind me. From the hallway my eight year old calico purrs like a lawnmower, settling into her favorite spot beneath the avalanche of laundry. Alright, so it's not that big yet, but avalanche seemed like a pretty intense word. I would say it's almost eighty degrees in my room - it's usually a sauna, but it's past the certain time of year where no matter how hot it gets my fleece blanket is always a necessity. So.. why does it feel like Christmas?
A strong scent of peppermint is drifting up the stairwell from the living room. I usually have some idea of what my mother is doing down there by the smells that rise upstairs, but I honestly have no idea what she's up to. It reminds me of the holidays when we just relax and suck on those swirly red-and-white mints and listen to Christmas music from when she was growing up. The plastic box is out right now full of Halloween decorations, but it might as well be full of candy canes and Santa hats instead of bats and grotesque masks.
These illusions are so interesting to me, when a certain smell possesses an almost magnetic force and pulls you right back to where you first breathed it in. Every time you inhale, the memories, no matter how dull they are, become fresh again, surface into the sticky pool of thought that is your brain. There has to be a reason why ever y time I smell a certain cologne I think of an ex, or every time I smell the summer rain I'm reflecting back on the time Alex and I danced in the downpour while our brownies in the oven got soggy.
A few minutes ago I was in my brother's room attempting to scout a new (old) coat since the temperature outside is dropping [and my arms get cold in October air]. I routed through bags and bags of plastic before I realized I was digging through summer things, not winter. Quick to catch on, I know. One bag was full of nothing but bathing suits, and leaning down close the beach from summers past still lingered in the strings that tied it together. Who knows how many years those swimsuits have been in there? It could have been only a few months and it could have been five years, but the scent was overpowering: sand could have been stuffed in that bag for all I knew.
My train of thoughts has been interrupted quite a lot since I started this blog, so I'm going to just start wrapping up before it becomes horrible. I want to remember a time before I had the friends I do now more vividly. I want there to be a smell that pulls me back to not just a certain time of year, not only a certain weather, but a carefree time. And carefree should smell like lilacs. Only more exotic. I've just decided.
19 October 2010
Surprise!
I'm gonna blog a little bit about - you guessed it! - Harry Potter before I get to bed. I started rereading Sorcerer's Stone a couple days ago. I'm only a hundred pages in, and already it's a totally magical experience. It's so fun to pretend like you have no idea what happens, and it would be amazing if that could really be so and we could live through the experience again. However, just waiting years to reread your favorite book puts you in this position where you are forced to read the same exact words differently. It's possible to make different judgements about characters and situations than you did last time because from the last time you picked that book up and dusted it off, you've more than likely been through life experiences that have changed you just in the slightest.
That being said, it's such a beautiful read this time around - all over again, and totally differently. I don't think I've ever laughed so much at a Harry Potter book as I've laughed at this one, whether actually "lol"ing or just chuckling to myself. I'm going to hope that this is some sign that I've lightened up in the past five or six years or so. Yeah, okay, so it's been too long since I've read Sorcerer's Stone. I'm ashamed. However, I used to be the biggest hard ass in junior high and the beginning of high school and I brushed aside most of the humor Jo would put in her books. I did this less toward the end of the series because I suppose I related to the humor more, or maybe there was just less of it. But little things like Hagrid sitting on and breaking the spindly legged chair in Mr. Ollivander's, Uncle Vernon's futile attempts to force Hagrid to leave the hut, the fact that Uncle Vernon actually was stupidly ridiculous enough to take the time to search out the hut in the first place, and just the way Harry back talks his relatives is awesome to me now. Not that I didn't appreciate these things before, but now that I know how the plot will lay out, the little things become more precious to me.
Right now I'm reading the part in which Harry meets Ron for the first time and I'm already super excited for him to get to Hogwarts. I'm trying as hard as I can to see this as a first time reader. People who see me reading Harry Potter (which I haven't really done in a while) may scoff and go "the same thing is going to happen, you know", but if I knew that, I wouldn't reread it. Of course the major plot points are going to be the same, but the actual things that go on are always slightly different. I hope I'm not the only one who feels this way.
Inevitably, there are some things that still make me wonder, some vocabulary I still don't quite feel the incentive to go grab a dictionary to understand, and some questions that still arise while I read. Where do you get a ticket for the Hogwarts Express? There can't be a special number you dial because wizards don't use telephones. Is there a box office or what? Hagrid got it in advance, so I'm assuming it's special delivery of some sort. And what if Uncle Vernon refused to drive Harry to King's Cross? I feel like that would've been a much bigger, at least a more dramatic, step in keeping Harry from attending Hogwarts. Also, WHY does Ron have dirt on his nose? Was he degnoming the garden right before his family left for King's Cross?
Also, the amount of foreshadowing is intensely enjoyable. Hagrid reminds Harry so many times that he'd be mad to rob Gringotts that I wonder how I didn't suspect something all those years ago. Oh yeah, because I was just enjoying the book for the moment and didn't think about the little things that might be important. Wooh. I love rereading. Also, I adore the Gringotts warning inscribed on the silver double doors when you enter for some reason. I'm just gonna copy it here because I feel like it. Enjoy the flashback!
"Enter, stranger, but take heed
Of what awaits the sin of greed,
For those who take, but do not earn,
Must pay most dearly in their turn.
So if you seek beneath our floors
A treasure that was never yours,
Thief, you have been warned, beware
Of finding more than treasure there."
That being said, it's such a beautiful read this time around - all over again, and totally differently. I don't think I've ever laughed so much at a Harry Potter book as I've laughed at this one, whether actually "lol"ing or just chuckling to myself. I'm going to hope that this is some sign that I've lightened up in the past five or six years or so. Yeah, okay, so it's been too long since I've read Sorcerer's Stone. I'm ashamed. However, I used to be the biggest hard ass in junior high and the beginning of high school and I brushed aside most of the humor Jo would put in her books. I did this less toward the end of the series because I suppose I related to the humor more, or maybe there was just less of it. But little things like Hagrid sitting on and breaking the spindly legged chair in Mr. Ollivander's, Uncle Vernon's futile attempts to force Hagrid to leave the hut, the fact that Uncle Vernon actually was stupidly ridiculous enough to take the time to search out the hut in the first place, and just the way Harry back talks his relatives is awesome to me now. Not that I didn't appreciate these things before, but now that I know how the plot will lay out, the little things become more precious to me.
Right now I'm reading the part in which Harry meets Ron for the first time and I'm already super excited for him to get to Hogwarts. I'm trying as hard as I can to see this as a first time reader. People who see me reading Harry Potter (which I haven't really done in a while) may scoff and go "the same thing is going to happen, you know", but if I knew that, I wouldn't reread it. Of course the major plot points are going to be the same, but the actual things that go on are always slightly different. I hope I'm not the only one who feels this way.
Inevitably, there are some things that still make me wonder, some vocabulary I still don't quite feel the incentive to go grab a dictionary to understand, and some questions that still arise while I read. Where do you get a ticket for the Hogwarts Express? There can't be a special number you dial because wizards don't use telephones. Is there a box office or what? Hagrid got it in advance, so I'm assuming it's special delivery of some sort. And what if Uncle Vernon refused to drive Harry to King's Cross? I feel like that would've been a much bigger, at least a more dramatic, step in keeping Harry from attending Hogwarts. Also, WHY does Ron have dirt on his nose? Was he degnoming the garden right before his family left for King's Cross?
Also, the amount of foreshadowing is intensely enjoyable. Hagrid reminds Harry so many times that he'd be mad to rob Gringotts that I wonder how I didn't suspect something all those years ago. Oh yeah, because I was just enjoying the book for the moment and didn't think about the little things that might be important. Wooh. I love rereading. Also, I adore the Gringotts warning inscribed on the silver double doors when you enter for some reason. I'm just gonna copy it here because I feel like it. Enjoy the flashback!
"Enter, stranger, but take heed
Of what awaits the sin of greed,
For those who take, but do not earn,
Must pay most dearly in their turn.
So if you seek beneath our floors
A treasure that was never yours,
Thief, you have been warned, beware
Of finding more than treasure there."
Drifting.
Recently I've come to realize that I'm absolutely terrified of drifting through life and not really living it. Between the college Philosophy class I took two years ago, the English course I took last year, the English and Poetry classes I'm currently enrolled in, and the reading I do day to day, I've done what seems like enough thinking for a lifetime about whether I will be truly fulfilled by what I'm gaining from life. Carpe diem, Mr. Keating says, seize the day and make sure nothing passes you by.
It's so much harder than it sounds, though. How do you go about making sure you don't miss anything out of life when your days are set in schedules that you're expected to follow in order to succeed? KLGJESKGSKLGELSK!
It's so much harder than it sounds, though. How do you go about making sure you don't miss anything out of life when your days are set in schedules that you're expected to follow in order to succeed? KLGJESKGSKLGELSK!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)