shade without colour, shape without form
Time really does go by faster as you get older. Frighteningly so. I feel as though I'm losing touch with the person I once was and can't tell why. I can't blame time or age itself for what is happening, as neither of them have any inherent meaning, and I don't know what component of my experiences could be to blame for this disconnect. I used to feel so much more distress and hope.
School has started up again. I've switched majors for the fourth time in three semesters. It is now journalism. I felt that though I was getting a great education as an English major, I wasn't getting the skills I'd need to do what I want to do. I've only the vaguest idea of what that might be right now, but I'm hoping things will come into focus.
I worry that I might just be addicted to the rush of new beginnings in all of this.
It's been about half a year since the night I spent what seemed like an eternity (in reality three hours) convinced that I'd died. I thought I knew what it meant at the time, but now I'm not so sure.
This journal has become a monument to my past selves, and though I so value the thoughts, feelings, aspirations and fears I once had, I'd like nothing more than to destroy it. I can't bring myself to do it, though.
The above image is a shot of the space shuttle during takeoff, taken from the international space station.