(no subject)
The last month and this month have been and are full of expectations for the future, and that is dangerous. My days are spent waiting for the day when I can finally move. July 3rd seems so far away. It's true that the location may be a temporary one, and honestly that would probably serve as the best case scenario because that means I'm making mad bank somewhere else, but the move, the act of moving is what matters. There's such a false emphasis on new starts and rebirths, but none of that is reality. There are no new starts, no second chances. You can move cities, but it's a small world, and the human race is a monotonous affair. If you believe in second chances, you're doomed to pine for a third and a fourth. Everything going on serves to make me into who I'm going to be in a month, in a year, in ten years, etc., and I'm not being fair to myself by not respecting each moment, each interaction.