fish gotta swim, birds gotta fly
I'm floored by the creativity freshman year triggered. November, April, and May were by far the most prolific months ever in the history of this journal. But as I move on and continue to distance myself from the people/events surrounding my first year of college, I find that my propensity to write spontaneously and introspectively is waning. Just a few months ago, I was trying to make sense of emotions I'd never felt before, or think I'd ever even feel. The fact that I'm uninspired nowadays must mean I've finally made sense of them.
Or maybe I've said all there is to say. I can keep replaying the what-ifs and come up with different versions of the same perfect, impossible ending, or I can let bygones be bygones. There is more to come and better experiences to be had. It's time to throw myself into something new.
Or maybe I've said all there is to say. I can keep replaying the what-ifs and come up with different versions of the same perfect, impossible ending, or I can let bygones be bygones. There is more to come and better experiences to be had. It's time to throw myself into something new.