Don't you give up on me

Don't you give up on me

I'm in the library and this is how it goes: I wake up when my body wants to and my room is filled with sunlight because the rain hasn't hit the city yet, and there are geese on the lawn and people walking their dogs and the bathroom smells good from the shower of one of my neighbors.  Breakfast isn't as good as it used to be and I haven't pinpointed why.  Class is strange but not altogether uncomfortable, and the boy to my left smells nice and I'm jealous of the haircut of the girl who sits to my right.  It's comforting to know that I can do this on my own if I had to, but I don't, because my friends are only a text away always (except in the library because the walls are too thick for cell phone signals) and there's music and the beauty of words, my own and others', and there's the way it feels to laugh by yourself in an empty room and wonder if the people on the other side of the walls and in the hallway can hear you.  There's place and space and how impossible it is to ever separate them, and there's text messages with my sister about British boys and high school physics teachers and the reminder every now and again that she's not a little girl anymore, and isn't that terrifying?

I'm really content with my schedule right now and my classes are good so far and I like my professors and I need to work harder to make sure my voice isn't overrun by louder voices but there's time for that.    I feel like I have time and not like everything's piling up all at once and that's a really nice feeling.  I know it won't last, but I'm going to try to enjoy it for the time being.

There are also these thoughts that've been floating around in my head about being a different person or a different sort of person this year, the kind of person who decides what she wants and goes after it, but I can't help but think that I'm much more content watching my fingers type in the reflection on my screen and waiting for life to happen to me.  That's such an awful attitude and I know it, but change is such a fickle being and what does that even mean?  It's not even late at night and my mind is already a jumbled mess.  I'm nervous about French class but I'm sure it will be fine.  It will be fine, it will be fine, it will be fine.  

Hold your horses now

Hold your horses now

I'm sitting in my new dorm room and feeling all nervous about this floor meeting that we're supposed to be having tonight at either 6:05 or 7:15 in either the south common room or the north common room, and I shouldn't feel like this, because I'm not a freshman and this isn't my first go here.  Ugh ugh ugh.  I haven't put anything up on my walls yet and I kind of like it like that, but usually I put up so much stuff that I feel like leaving the walls plain would almost be betraying past me.  Does that make any sense?  Of course not.

It's weird being back and I'm not ready to start class tomorrow and somehow I've started to feel like this isn't real life, like this is limbo between childhood and when actual real life actually really starts.  Every thing is so temporary here: my dorm room and my classes and it's all going to not be in my life a year from now, and that's such a strange feeling.  I'm listening to a song right now that I listened to in my room two days ago, and I'm not there any more, and isn't that weird?

So anyhow I'm terrified right now even though I know I shouldn't be and isn't it good that I'm not a freshman again?  That might've been the scaredest I've ever been.  Good God.

From your apartment into mine

From your apartment into mine

I'm going back to school in two weeks and I'm not ready, not ready, not ready.  The other day I was out with my mom and my sister and I was grumpy and I whined at her, and we were in public and I realized that I'm 19 years old and I can't act like that anymore, because I have 15,430 followers on an internet blog and I have a job where I pick up after children who whine all day, and growing up is absolutely fucking terrifying.  It's strange to think that two summers ago I wrote the words that became my college application essay, the one that Ann said that she liked and then she told me that I had to work on being an introvert in college, and I hadn't realized until that point that I was writing about introversion because I'd never thought about it before.  But now I think about it all the goddamn time and I've realized how much I think about everything all the goddamn time, but I'm really stupid actually.

It's late and I'm not going to proofread and I like my sentences like this anyhow, because this is how my brain is and screw off if you don't like it.  I wish I could be that way in real life.  I wish my real life was more life-y.  I don't want to leave home and my dogs and my bed and my free time and I don't want to leave the people at work because it's nice not talking about Plato for once and isn't that weird?  Maybe I've pointed my life in the wrong direction.  But maybe it's too late to change it.