Goodbye
It's been a long long time since I first started this account. Sophomore year in High school.. I hardly remember it. I've lost friends and gained them. I've eaten and slept in strange places. I've held impossible things, and given birth to new ones. Most importantly, I've grown. Whether it will last or whether its an illusion is to be seen.
For the last few entries, I've been trying to capture the big picture feeling that life has taken on now. Through repetition, I seem to have done that feeling no justice. Let me elaborate. I feel as though the world is an incredibly large and ornate door. I am outside, trying to force my way in, but there's an element of randomness too. Like say, there are a million doors and I picked the one that had the most brilliant hue of orange.
I've long since seen the last of simple days, where one can spend an entire week with only a handful of potentially life-destroying possibilities. Now, the come by the bucket. One missed curve, one missed alarm, one missed payment are enough to destroy your life in abominable ways.
I wish I could talk to myself four years ago. I would tell him to be more assertive, to avoid certain people, and above all to be fairer to others. Unfortunately, I can't, but I think it's turned out well enough so far.
It's been a good, though sporadic run, but like all things in life it must end eventually. And now, three years later, I solemnly close this journal for good. It's been swell.
For the last few entries, I've been trying to capture the big picture feeling that life has taken on now. Through repetition, I seem to have done that feeling no justice. Let me elaborate. I feel as though the world is an incredibly large and ornate door. I am outside, trying to force my way in, but there's an element of randomness too. Like say, there are a million doors and I picked the one that had the most brilliant hue of orange.
I've long since seen the last of simple days, where one can spend an entire week with only a handful of potentially life-destroying possibilities. Now, the come by the bucket. One missed curve, one missed alarm, one missed payment are enough to destroy your life in abominable ways.
I wish I could talk to myself four years ago. I would tell him to be more assertive, to avoid certain people, and above all to be fairer to others. Unfortunately, I can't, but I think it's turned out well enough so far.
It's been a good, though sporadic run, but like all things in life it must end eventually. And now, three years later, I solemnly close this journal for good. It's been swell.