Tangle of thoughts, dreams, visions. Loose ends here and there, ends connected to everything, ends connected to nothing except each other. Distress at lack of order.
Future: what of it? Will it be as desired, or as feared, despairing? Nothing is known, except that it keeps turning into the present.
Strange hours. Sleepy at 2 PM, wide awake at two in the morning. What of it? When day stretches on forever, does it matter when one sleeps?
What, exactly, makes one grown-up? Self-sufficiency? Who can determine the level of maturity required to have reached adulthood? "21" seems a rather indeterminate and arbitrary number, given the wide range of differences contained therein. Is there an intelligence/independence level that must be attained, and if so, can it be measured?
Boyfriend/lover/companion arriving tomorrow. Perhaps sex will help ground my thoughts somewhat? Or will it just make things worse?
Song inside, wants to get out. Strangled in the back of a throat, too-soft with tongue in the way. Afraid to let it out; afraid of what? Ridicule? Pointed fingers? Disturbing others? Not living up to the voice in my head?
Do I want to let my song out, or do I just want to make others do the growing-up for me?
Future: what of it? Will it be as desired, or as feared, despairing? Nothing is known, except that it keeps turning into the present.
Strange hours. Sleepy at 2 PM, wide awake at two in the morning. What of it? When day stretches on forever, does it matter when one sleeps?
What, exactly, makes one grown-up? Self-sufficiency? Who can determine the level of maturity required to have reached adulthood? "21" seems a rather indeterminate and arbitrary number, given the wide range of differences contained therein. Is there an intelligence/independence level that must be attained, and if so, can it be measured?
Boyfriend/lover/companion arriving tomorrow. Perhaps sex will help ground my thoughts somewhat? Or will it just make things worse?
Song inside, wants to get out. Strangled in the back of a throat, too-soft with tongue in the way. Afraid to let it out; afraid of what? Ridicule? Pointed fingers? Disturbing others? Not living up to the voice in my head?
Do I want to let my song out, or do I just want to make others do the growing-up for me?