The New Me, or the Repressed Me?
No, I'm not coming out of the closet.
Glad we got that out of the way.
I started school last Thursday and, well...I love it. I love school. I am inspired by my professors and I sincerely want to grasp any piece of knowledge they can pass to me. I even like doing my homework. I know, crazy huh?
Which Brings Me To My Question: Has Hell frozen over?
What is going on with me? I just left high school two months ago and I think most know what my attitude was during that time of my life. Granted I know that I've only been in college for two weeks, but I have a feeling my feelings towards it won't change anytime soon. And until they do(or preferably never do) I will just continue to ride this wave of change.
And here's a familiar metaphor for those departing away from here: I don't know where the road of life is going to take you, but to all of you(really just some of you)(really really just a select few of you) I hope that we collide head on and are thrown from our vehicles and lay side by side on the black, hot asphalt and leak nostalgia from our metaphorical wounds.
Glad we got that out of the way.
I started school last Thursday and, well...I love it. I love school. I am inspired by my professors and I sincerely want to grasp any piece of knowledge they can pass to me. I even like doing my homework. I know, crazy huh?
Which Brings Me To My Question: Has Hell frozen over?
What is going on with me? I just left high school two months ago and I think most know what my attitude was during that time of my life. Granted I know that I've only been in college for two weeks, but I have a feeling my feelings towards it won't change anytime soon. And until they do(or preferably never do) I will just continue to ride this wave of change.
And here's a familiar metaphor for those departing away from here: I don't know where the road of life is going to take you, but to all of you(really just some of you)(really really just a select few of you) I hope that we collide head on and are thrown from our vehicles and lay side by side on the black, hot asphalt and leak nostalgia from our metaphorical wounds.