I.
So I'm moving. In four days. It's odd, but it's right. I feel weird being in Memphis now, like I'm not supposed to be here. And my room is a half-empty mess, my paintings and odd assortment of inspirations the only things left untouched thus far, which makes me feel even less like I'm supposed to be here. And I hate goodbyes. But not in the traditional sense. I don't mind the fact that I'm saying goodbye so much as the length of time most goodbyes last. I kind of wish I could just pack up my car with all my friends standing around and then hug everyone and give a little wave and put a good CD in and hit the road. And I'm secretly hoping no one will miss me. I know that's weird, but it's easier that way. I'm such a people-pleaser that I feel guilty for moving. I don't even really feel that sad, I just feel guilty, like I'm letting everyone down. I keep trying my hardest to hide the fact that I'm excited for the new adventure Texas is about to provide me with. I mean I'll miss everyone here a lot, some more than others. But I'm not worried, because the people I'll miss most are the ones I know will be in my life for the rest of it, no matter where we are.
For the entire last semester I felt like I was in this dark place and I had no idea which way to go. So I just kind of stomped around in a little circle, feeling my way around, trying to find the light switch or something. For the first time in...a really, really long time, I know I'm doing what I'm supposed to be doing. I guess you call that being decisive. This is one of the few times in my life that I feel decisive. And it's ironic because I'm doing something I never would have thought I'd do, something I used to judge other people for doing. I'm taking a semester off of school. I used to think that the kids who did that had no life goals and weren't going anywhere. Funny how God works.
II.
Sometimes I feel kind of anti-social, like I just don't want to be around a lot of people. It didn't used to happen very often, but as I get older it gets more frequent. I like to just chill out, maybe with some people I'm really close to; you know, the ones you don't necessarily have to talk to the whole time you're hanging out. Sometimes I just want to sit in my room and drink coffee and listen to Sufjan Stevens and write or paint. Some people can't, for the life of them, understand that. And it makes me a little sad for them, because they'll never really know what it's like to be alone with themselves. Being alone with yourself is a beautiful thing sometimes.
III.
There are nights that I just feel the need to write. So I start writing a bunch of random stuff, waiting for the big, important thing to come to me. Some nights it comes and I end up writing something interesting and cool. But some nights it never comes, and I just end up with this odd, non-cohesive bit. I think tonight's post is in the latter camp. So if you're reading this, you're probably thinking, "Wait, that's it? What? Did I really just waste three minutes of my life?" The answer to all of those questions is yes. I'm feeling a little American post-modern tonight.
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