I wrote this the first night of my senior year. A lot has changed and shifted and evolved and grown since that point, but everything is still eerily sort of similar.... here goes:
"And so I sit.
Intentionally skipping and avoiding the songs I know will bring tears.
I sit in a place unfamiliar and familiar all at the same time.
In a space with bare walls,
with clean floors, still fresh from having been replaced.
I hear the crickets. I'm not looking. I am listening.
There is a train.
I sit in a bed. Far too big for just one body.
The simplicity of this room is one that comforts and scares me even more.
To be here now is almost to be chained to a ship crossing uncharted waters.
To repeat the cycle. The yearly. The weekly.
The daily.
The hourly.
And when it comes to it - the minutely.
Where finding a space or a time to just exist becomes difficult.
The anxiety and the excitement is enough to cause trauma to my head and heart.
Memories, thoughts, and feelings constantly feeding off eachother inside of me. Exploding and expanding. Causing my mind to race and my heart to pound.
To wait.
To be weary of the potential heartache.
To be intrigued of the potential romance.
To be cautious of the potential. Potential energy.
But still, to be here is to be waiting.
But the questions is: what am I waiting for?
And is the wait worth it?"
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WOW. WOW. WOW.
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