be my

it's break time.

i am nowhere near finished my research paper for my quebec history class and the more notes i write the more i wish it were finished and i could move on to my other fifty million assignments due before/or on december first. instead i am listening to awfully dreamy music, having a heart to heart with someone who i care about and thinking. this whole thinking business can be dreadful because i may or may not step out of it and finish, or at least complete, a rough draft of this damn paper.

i am thinking about the things that make people lonely. i am not saying i am lonely now but i am thinking about what it is that makes us ennui and how it is all so tiresome. i am also thinking about familial similarities and how ridiculously accurate they are, even though the connection was only made a few years ago with no ties until then. i am also thinking about the economy but who wants to write about that anymore and how it's the worst thing since 1929. OBVIOUSLY.

i am thinking about moving. i talked to katie a few days ago, who is in her last year of university, and she told me how she never understood when people ditched university when they were within a few months of graduating but now she does. it's the itch to leave as soon as possible that propels people to rashly decide they can go it on their own with a degree, even when they were so close. now the seed it planted in my head. i look up apartments in toronto and daydream about the life i will live after school and the things i want to do career wise. it's odd. i am getting back the best parts of me that i idealized over for so long when i was a teenager. i have goals and these goals are so close and i would feel awful, incompetent and a failure if i didn't reach them. i am like the overthinking brainac in your eleventh grade english class who got an A- instead of an A+ on an assignment but in a more grown-up way.

right now i am thinking about how i can write so much here but when i open up the word document with my paper i suddenly feel a lurch in my stomach and it all stops. the words don't flow, my head hurts and i am grasping desperately at any and all ideas i could maybe possibly mold into a coherent essay. i have to rewrite my entire introduction so maybe i should go at with a different approach.

approach. how hard is it to approach someone and tell them how you feel? no matter how bad it may seem: sad, angry, tired, frustrated, love, admiration, hope. where do you start when you have so much to say? what if they don't want to hear it? i am always fearful of the latter.

knock knock knock

here's what i figured out: the reach is so high and disappointment is inevitable. but what if you are reaching for something that, perhaps legitimately, is within distance, are you still reaching too high? if i knew i could get it, i would go after it. maybe that's why i am thinking the things i am now and planning and plotting out a future that may or may not happen.

it's not that i won't go for it now, it's just that it's not here. and that's not my excuse.

break over.