Covered In Rain

I've never been afraid of getting older, but maybe I never really thought about it enough before. At some point, we'll have to stop being so free - we'll put limits on ourselves, finding sacrifices we need to make. I never thought about those sacrifices before, but I suppose at some point I might eventually have to stop living the way I am, acting out of my heart instead of out of my hands. For now, I still define years from September to June, in terms of school years, but eventually the years will blend together and I won't be able to remember what year exactly I met someone or learned something or got hired or fired or did something fantastic. And maybe even all those occurences will become less and less, because I'll devote myself to only a few things instead of getting high off of all the possibilities. I'll do what I want, but what happens after that? I'll find something I think is worth committing to, and then I'll stop searching so hard. I don't know what that would be like, to stop searching so hard. I've worried before that maybe the only reason I want to transfer is because I'm scared to stop searching, to stop wishing for more. I'm afraid that the moment I do that, a part of me will fade away and I won't be able to get it back again. I'm afraid I'll lie to myself if I stop searching, because I'll take something instead of asking for something better.

It has to happen at some time, though - at some point I'll become completely reliable, with a job and a family and a house and a commute and a refridgerator that I'll actually have to keep stocked with fresh food, and not let food sit until it grows God knows what, like what's in the fridge right now. I'll stop being scared about global warming because I'll have "better things" to worry about. I'll stop having so much time to do stuff like write, when I'm already using time I should be studying to do this. For the past week or so I've fantasized about having a pencil in my hand to draw, and yet still haven't picked one up, because whenever I've had free time it wasn't enough to get lost. I realize that I love drawing but don't do it for months and months at a time, because whenever I have time to do it, I do something else. I want to draw most when I know I can't, and when I actually can, I forget to. Maybe that's the way it is with a lot of life, and maybe that's the way it is with age - we can do anything we want now, but once we've locked into something, we look back and wonder why we didn't draw more when we had the time.

I guess this is where I've been at for the past few days - I finally feel like this is accurate. It's suddenly getting harder to write anything I actually want to hear, and I'm not really sure how to fix that. It's like at certain points of the day, I get so tired, even though I was just laughing or start laughing only a few minutes later. It's times like these, when I listen to the same 8-minute song on repeat because it's the only thing that will keep me here, the place I've been violently falling into and frantically jumping out of. It's not necessarily a cheerful place, but it's a true place, and I miss truth a lot at times. It's not like I'm depressed, but it's just like I'm realizing how much I hold myself back. I do it because I don't know what comes out of my head - I sit down to write and come up with paragraphs and paragraphs - and I don't know how to live like this, the way I write. I guess where I started with all of this was when I realized I'm afraid I'll never figure out how to live like this.

I know this is another depressing one, but this one feels like me at long last, so it's really not depressing at all. It feels so much better.