This week, despite its happy beginning, did not end so well. I'm not sure how, or why it happened that way. I've been trying to ignore it; trying to shunt it to the side and pretend that it doesn't matter, or that I don't really care that much about it, but ever reliable, the uneasiness and discontent comes back to gnaw at me, lurking in the back of my mind. Ah. I didn't want this post to be negative. So many things are happy in my life! The weather is perfect, the Christmas music is on, and I have the best family and friends in the world. And yet, the melancholy feeling continues, and I tell people,
It comes, leaves a memory, and then flies away quickly; I am unable to catch it and save it in a jar, poking holes through the lid to give it oxygen.
I can't set it on my shelf and look at it, waiting for it to move or try to escape. It merely comes when it chooses, giving me an hour here, a few minutes there.
I laugh with time; I flirt with time. I lose track of it, another quality that makes it impossible to capture and protect. I am constantly running out of it; my supply runs dry and life gets harder. It's like... a best friend who I haven't seen for a week or two, or when I go a whole day without seeing my baby brother.
Do you have any time on your hands? And if you do, would you lend me some?
Sometimes you see little slices of the world that seem to be meant just for you.
I was sitting on my porch in the early evening hours, and the sun was bathing the world in a rosy glow of orange and gold. The after-effects of a long, relaxing bike ride lingered in arms and legs, and I had never felt so comfortable in a wooden chair before. I had a tall glass of water on one side of me and the best book on the other. I set down my book, thought for awhile, and stared aimlessly across the street at the nearly empty neighborhood park. I suddenly realized what I was looking at. A young man and woman were there, standing on the teeter-totter, laughing together. They looked young; old enough to be dating-for-marriage, and young enough to be almost-newlyweds. They soon abandoned the teeter-totter for the swing-set, and then their car. Just as she was about to get in, he swept her into his arms, spun her around, set her back down and said, "You're it!" He then proceeded to run away. She mockingly tried to tag him, but failed miserably. He was not to be defeated. She laughed, he laughed. They walked to their car, and gave each other a tender kiss. He opened her door, got in the driver's seat, and drove away.
Senior Year is an interesting time. It is a time to enjoy. I have my friends; it is no longer my main priority to find people that I connect with. I already have strong connections. I'm making them stronger every day.
However. That doesn't mean I can't make new friends.
There are sophomores to smile at! Juniors to become acquainted with! Seniors to become reacquainted with!
I love it. I don't have to pretend to be anyone, anything, or any other person.
school. AP literature. friendships. fun in society. sensational seniors. singing fiends. harmonizations. Stephen Colbert. new cousin. Paranormalcy. AP psychology.
pen pal. Harry Potter lovin' brother. dream journal.
archery. plaid backpack. new bike tire.
trademarks. Billie Holiday. movie night. cute sis.
crazy teacher. fabulous teachers. pool partyin'. pearls.
ModCloth. fun paper. new books. senior year.
Sometimes I am not sure. I'm a dreamer. I have goals to meet. I dream of life after high school, but also of life during high school. Friendships and relationships pepper my daydreams, and I sprinkle them over reality. I am an individual: a unique version of the seventeen year old girl. I love to love. I love to be loved. Musical fantasies often occupy my thoughts. Singing is my escape, and a way for me to express myself, though not the only way I do so. I talk. A lot. I act. Sometimes I show off. I try to avoid it. I love pretty things. Being a girl is wonderful. Random obsessions sometimes distract me. I'm smart. Writing gives me a thrill. I love to read and get to know characters in books. I daydream about historical heroes. I use their examples to make sure I'm living right. I am a girl. I will succeed.