Miles to go before I sleep...
Okay, so it’s like 3:00 in the morning, but I can’t sleep because this is driving me insane. So I’m online and Zack (who is probably reading this right now, *waves*) ims me. Out of the blue and tells me about how he saw Carmen at the movies and then Shanique ims me and, okay this make no sense. I just miss what could’ve been and what was. And everything.
Do you know what bookstores, the 20’s, 60’s and basically any era, the cello and backpacking across Europe have in common? They all make me cry, wonder, sigh, hope for a world that I have not yet touched the surface of. A beautiful and horrible world that I have yet to absorb, love and hate. And yet these shackles of immaturity and uncertainty weigh me down. Why? Because I’m blinded by the obtuse things and inhibited by the most outlandish analysis.
In a week, I am supposed to be going on a National Theatre Festival trip for a week and spend $522. And no, I’m not excited about the workshops, or my roommates or Magruder performing Pippin. All that I can think about and all that haunts my thoughts is a canned food drive we had this spring, and the money that went toward an emergency food canteen for kids in our sister school in Namibia. Yeah, the sister school no one knows about and the kids that pass out because they don’t have enough food and the canteen that they have for DIRE emergencies that contains measly provisions. And the fact that one Namibian dollar is equivalent to 7 American ones and that I’m going on a trip worth $3654 or 3654 dollars for food for the thousands of children living in squatter communities outside Windhoek or the millions of children in Africa who only need a $3 vaccination but die while one girl, one selfish immature girl who doesn’t know what she wants goes to National Theatre Fest and works on musical theatre.
I’ve been “studying” this week for finals are Tuesday. We’ll see how that goes. But I learned about a lot of people that I didn’t know that well before and gained knowledge of something greater than anything in a textbook.
And to those people, I hope you don’t have to suffer much longer, and I’m here for you. And that applies to the same people who I think about everyday who don’t know it and the people who I haven’t seen or talked to for 2 years.
All I know that this is the last day that I will be 15, 2 months and 3 days. And that I’m sick of ripping of the days of my calendar with sighs.
<3Arly-Lian
Do you know what bookstores, the 20’s, 60’s and basically any era, the cello and backpacking across Europe have in common? They all make me cry, wonder, sigh, hope for a world that I have not yet touched the surface of. A beautiful and horrible world that I have yet to absorb, love and hate. And yet these shackles of immaturity and uncertainty weigh me down. Why? Because I’m blinded by the obtuse things and inhibited by the most outlandish analysis.
In a week, I am supposed to be going on a National Theatre Festival trip for a week and spend $522. And no, I’m not excited about the workshops, or my roommates or Magruder performing Pippin. All that I can think about and all that haunts my thoughts is a canned food drive we had this spring, and the money that went toward an emergency food canteen for kids in our sister school in Namibia. Yeah, the sister school no one knows about and the kids that pass out because they don’t have enough food and the canteen that they have for DIRE emergencies that contains measly provisions. And the fact that one Namibian dollar is equivalent to 7 American ones and that I’m going on a trip worth $3654 or 3654 dollars for food for the thousands of children living in squatter communities outside Windhoek or the millions of children in Africa who only need a $3 vaccination but die while one girl, one selfish immature girl who doesn’t know what she wants goes to National Theatre Fest and works on musical theatre.
I’ve been “studying” this week for finals are Tuesday. We’ll see how that goes. But I learned about a lot of people that I didn’t know that well before and gained knowledge of something greater than anything in a textbook.
And to those people, I hope you don’t have to suffer much longer, and I’m here for you. And that applies to the same people who I think about everyday who don’t know it and the people who I haven’t seen or talked to for 2 years.
All I know that this is the last day that I will be 15, 2 months and 3 days. And that I’m sick of ripping of the days of my calendar with sighs.
<3Arly-Lian