I haven't expressed much criticism to anything lately. I feel that I'm growing boring as I spend my time within these walls. I can write about the movies I've seen or about how angry I get sometimes in school. I'm no longer a top student and being mediocre is one of the things I've feared the most throughout my life. Being less than. Being half wit. But then again I can just sit and think about the work I put in. And it's not much. I'm exhausted most of the time. And I sleep quite more than enough. It all builds up. But I'm waiting for the snow to melt and for the cold to go away. There will be tiny green leaves and plenty of sunlight. I'll wear sandals and put the wool gloves in the back of my closet. I'm dreaming of spring as a means to bring me back to life. To stop taking things so seriously, to enjoy all that's out there for a twenty-three year old. It's my scary age. But I'll kick twenty three's ass and have a great year off. And I want to start now. Because making plans is nice. But things have to begin somewhere.
The work never ends. Piles and piles of books and papers and they keep buzzing me annoyingly. The moment I stop for a while, it just builds up to a day of anxiety later on. But I still don't care right now. I'll just read some, finish the movie, swim in water or in dreams. I'll just be, cause that's what we do anyway with our lives. Again, I can hardly find the keys.
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