I don’t remember you looking any better, but then again, I don’t remember you.
It touches one deep nerve inside of me, the one that says “he, that’s me”. I have already grown up a little more, and at the point I’m now, however imperfect it may seem to all my expectations and ego delussions, I’m right where I need to be. Right where I want to be. Right where I am me.
I feel the whole path in front of me unfolding slowly and gracefully, and it is uncertain, that’s for sure. But it feels right, and I feel like it’ll take me home. Home, you know what I mean now. Life happens as we mold it, want any proofs more of that? Just be aware that everything you say is what it is, not only what it seems.
I’m growing up and I’m happy.
I’m hung over and I don’t give a shit.
I didn’t get the full scholarship, but something will fill it in.
I need to go to work and that’s completely fine.
I’m going to Boston, and not even Meyer can stop me.
I’m going to walk the path of notes and survive the battle amazingly.
I’m going to live the war, and make it love.
I’m going to live life.
I’m living life.

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