"So scared of getting older, I'm only good at being young." (Still.)
I use that lyric to title a lot of my life. Maybe because it's always playing in my head. The days are whizzing by and the time to make decisions keeps getting closer and closer. It's always there. And I never know which way to go.
When I was in high school I used to read the blogs of people that were older than me. I thought they were the most fascinating people. I used to think that when I got closer to their ages, maybe my pictures and entries would have the same kind of sparkling mischief to them. Everyday seemed like such a romantic, extraordinary adventure.
I just came across one of the people on the internet, and the thing is...that feeling hasn't faded. I still think to myself, that maybe one day my words will be articulate like that. Maybe my pictures will look like the time period I feel like I'm from. Maybe my eyes will scream endless oceans of depth and spontaneity.
I've gotten older, and so have they, and I never quite caught up.
Some of the illusions I had, crashed along the way. Some of the people, I got to know, and I realized that we are all just people. The things that made them seem so magical when I was younger, slowly faded. But that didn't happen to everyone. Some of them I still hold in this high place that seems unattainable.
Someone promised me when I was younger, that as time passed I would find a way to articulate my words the way I wanted. He explained he used to experience the same struggle.
I was walking with my oldest friend around the neighborhood last night. He said "when did Seven Lakes get so scary?" There are odd fences, and dogs without leashes, and kids smoking in the driveways running around knocking over nativity scenes.
He told me about this conversation he had to have with two separate people. He was able to say exactly what he wanted to, but thought it too blunt. I thought it was perfect, envious of his ability to express himself in such a straightforward honest way, regardless of the consequences.
I don't think I've come to the point where I can articulate myself the way I wanted. I wonder if he was wrong?
You know, come to think of it, it's ok if he is.
It seems like that desire to reach that place where the pictures sparkle, and the words are just thriving with life, that's what keeps me going. So what if I haven't gotten there yet? That's the spark that ignites the yearning for creativity. That's what keeps the words from drying up, and the cameras out of their cases, and my ears open for the perfect words to that one beautiful song that's going to find its place right in the loneliest place in my heart. And it's what makes me keep the people in my life that prompt the adventures to continue unfolding. It's exactly what keeps it all interesting.
When I was in high school I used to read the blogs of people that were older than me. I thought they were the most fascinating people. I used to think that when I got closer to their ages, maybe my pictures and entries would have the same kind of sparkling mischief to them. Everyday seemed like such a romantic, extraordinary adventure.
I just came across one of the people on the internet, and the thing is...that feeling hasn't faded. I still think to myself, that maybe one day my words will be articulate like that. Maybe my pictures will look like the time period I feel like I'm from. Maybe my eyes will scream endless oceans of depth and spontaneity.
I've gotten older, and so have they, and I never quite caught up.
Some of the illusions I had, crashed along the way. Some of the people, I got to know, and I realized that we are all just people. The things that made them seem so magical when I was younger, slowly faded. But that didn't happen to everyone. Some of them I still hold in this high place that seems unattainable.
Someone promised me when I was younger, that as time passed I would find a way to articulate my words the way I wanted. He explained he used to experience the same struggle.
I was walking with my oldest friend around the neighborhood last night. He said "when did Seven Lakes get so scary?" There are odd fences, and dogs without leashes, and kids smoking in the driveways running around knocking over nativity scenes.
He told me about this conversation he had to have with two separate people. He was able to say exactly what he wanted to, but thought it too blunt. I thought it was perfect, envious of his ability to express himself in such a straightforward honest way, regardless of the consequences.
I don't think I've come to the point where I can articulate myself the way I wanted. I wonder if he was wrong?
You know, come to think of it, it's ok if he is.
It seems like that desire to reach that place where the pictures sparkle, and the words are just thriving with life, that's what keeps me going. So what if I haven't gotten there yet? That's the spark that ignites the yearning for creativity. That's what keeps the words from drying up, and the cameras out of their cases, and my ears open for the perfect words to that one beautiful song that's going to find its place right in the loneliest place in my heart. And it's what makes me keep the people in my life that prompt the adventures to continue unfolding. It's exactly what keeps it all interesting.