The parts of me where much of my imagination lies. Where rich tapestries of worlds yet to come lie dormant, covered over in a thick coat of fear and topped off with the monotony of a life designed to be monotonous.
The parts of me that can find profound pleasure in a patch of clover or the way the sun shines down on a lake as it sets, sending a spike of firey water towards your eye like an arrow pointing to you saying "You are the reason for all this, you are the center, the nexus, the cause. You are and by your being you are magnificent"
The cat ran out of the house several times and came back each time. My mother freaked every SINGLE time it happened of course, but it was nice to see her chasing a butterfly in the backyard (cat, not mom) and not cooped up inside. I'd feel bad for her because she has to return to the city now and live a life restrained, except that once I learn to drive I can take her up to Millerton where she can frollick in the garden and chase woodchucks in the woods. So she'll be okay.
My mother was....herself which is fairly offensive. She dragged me to a restaurant last night that played Christian Country music the whole time and she was able to ignore it but I was not, because that's how I am.
I wish we hadn't had to leave so soon. I wish I had had more time, but it's okay. I have a life ahead of me and I'm just starting to understand that that means that I have plenty more summers to make up for lost time and plenty more mistakes and wastes to make. People aren't computer programs, efficiency isn't ALWAYS good.
I want to write now but the mind is not willing. I'm too comfortable, too oddly happy with the last week or so and too curious as to how the next year of college will work out. It seems like it just might be...good. A foreign word. A dream spoken of only in whispered voices for fear of it fleeing. A ghost of a ghost. But a possibility.
Things seem to be on an upswing. Life seems to be getting better. I know that I have more strength than others or even I dare believe I do. At this rate I'll find out I have cancer and only six months to live (Welcome to my paranoid world where everything is possible and nothing is safe).
There are things I need to do to improve my life but I am starting to know what some of them are and that makes ALL the difference.
I worry that I am outgrowing this journal a little. That I've said so much that I'll have to slow down. But I need to accept that as okay. Life right now is for me to live, not write about, and it's time I started seriously thinking about taking my life in hand. Nobody else is going to do it for me.
I'm 19 and I have plenty of time.