stare at the sun. what do you see?
Mr. GW is president. Again. Unfortunately.
And Stenholm is no longer my congressman. Stenholm will ALWAYS be MY congressman Neugebauer. Besse mi culo.
I feel rather, reminiscent now. This only happens once every four years.
Four years ago I was a good kid. A virgin. Not quite a junkie. Not a rehab all-star. Not a table-top abortion victim. Amazing in school. All set out to live my life. It's intriguing how much can change in four years. Who walks in, slams the door, and quietly leaves. Everything I have been through, and made out better in the end.
Though I still have a fantastic sense of smell and lovely scarring on the inside of me.
Come around next election, I wonder how things will differ. Where will I be? What will I have accomplished? Who will I be? Will I even know myself? Who will follow and who will I meet (again) on the way?
But the thing I worry about most, will I be happy?
Because I could accomplish everything in my lovely to-to list and still be completely miserable.
Plans of action:
priority number one in everything is school. within four years, graduation is a must. what degree is debatable, and will be until i walk across the stage.
out of abilene and into a metropolis is a must.
one thing that scares me (and excites me) is that in four years i could be married. i could have children. i could finally walk down the aisle to my golden retirement of gaudy rings, big blue beehives, rving all across the united states, and taking daily walks with my husband at 8 am holding hands.
or i could be stuck in this same rut.
but i am being optimistic.
i just hope that in four years i will have grown mentally. able to shake the demons i can't quite conquer presently. that i will be the independent female with a voice i was meant to be.
because i could be silent. but i always choose to speak.
And Stenholm is no longer my congressman. Stenholm will ALWAYS be MY congressman Neugebauer. Besse mi culo.
I feel rather, reminiscent now. This only happens once every four years.
Four years ago I was a good kid. A virgin. Not quite a junkie. Not a rehab all-star. Not a table-top abortion victim. Amazing in school. All set out to live my life. It's intriguing how much can change in four years. Who walks in, slams the door, and quietly leaves. Everything I have been through, and made out better in the end.
Though I still have a fantastic sense of smell and lovely scarring on the inside of me.
Come around next election, I wonder how things will differ. Where will I be? What will I have accomplished? Who will I be? Will I even know myself? Who will follow and who will I meet (again) on the way?
But the thing I worry about most, will I be happy?
Because I could accomplish everything in my lovely to-to list and still be completely miserable.
Plans of action:
priority number one in everything is school. within four years, graduation is a must. what degree is debatable, and will be until i walk across the stage.
out of abilene and into a metropolis is a must.
one thing that scares me (and excites me) is that in four years i could be married. i could have children. i could finally walk down the aisle to my golden retirement of gaudy rings, big blue beehives, rving all across the united states, and taking daily walks with my husband at 8 am holding hands.
or i could be stuck in this same rut.
but i am being optimistic.
i just hope that in four years i will have grown mentally. able to shake the demons i can't quite conquer presently. that i will be the independent female with a voice i was meant to be.
because i could be silent. but i always choose to speak.