And this is what she said, she said to me

And this is what she said, she said to me

It's kind of terrifying me that I have absolutelynoidea where I'm going next year, because I can't make up my mind and and scared of being crushed by books and don't like smoke and I don't know what I want.  Tomorrow I am going to nearly fail a Euro test and tutor a sophomore in French and hopefully go to bed early, even though I say that every night and never actually do. 

I really want to be a painter and I want to paint on sheets of newspaper and glue them to walls and then leave and not watch the reactions of the people who come in.  I have this idea in my head of writing a play, if only because I've been basically incapable lately of writing anything more than snapshots of moments, but that's also terrifying because I have no idea how to write a play, so I don't even want to start. Why is that my attitude toward everything?  It shouldn't be.  I can't seem to take my own advice, ever.