I’m on a bus. It’s been about 20 minutes and 15 feet since I got on. My French quiz just started and my hair is a bit frizzy. I’m simultaneously “so over” school, but desperately relenting that it is soon coming to an end. I tell myself I’m happy, since of course it’s 9:47 AM and the view outside this moving vehicle is lovely. I don’t feel the same way at a quarter to midnight, or sometimes at 3:45 AM as I distract myself in bed from thinking the large pile of clothes on my bed is a disfigured monster plotting my death. I have most of what I need in life, and a sustainable amount of what I want. My faith has been dwindling as I’ve chosen not to think about questions of higher powers and spirituality that have only frustrated myself with more questions. The good weather is slowly leaving and I feel like my good disposition might too.
But another part of me knows the worst has passed. That seasons and unclear futures are nothing I haven’t already endevored. Maybe I’ll be just fine.
… I didn’t go to class though. Merde!