It’s raining.
I always think it’s magical when it rains for some reason.
I think it’s because every little drop is part of the puddle that forms.
It can’t be formed by a few single drops, it must be many that bond together to become something bigger- stronger.
Sometimes I wish I could be like that. I wish that I could be part of something more wonderful.
I sit in class, whipping through finals and watching the morning turn to afternoon through the window.
Only a couple more days, and then it’s summer.
Oh Summer. How I hate and love you.
Most kids are excited for summer. They’ve already cleaned out their lockers. They’ve turned all assignments in, made sure that all teachers have their books, and are ready to head onto the next grade.
I’m not.
Maybe it’s because I’m afraid of change- Afraid of the future.
I’m not ready to grow up, although it’s the inevitable. I want to sit in class forever and write my stories. Stories that will never become anything more than my imagination. Simple little things.
Somewhere, I know there’s a place where I belong. I know there’s something I was born to do, but I want to relax a little longer. I want to live a little longer. I want to enjoy how I am now, and enjoy how things are, rather than rush and want it all to end so quickly.
I’m staring out the door at my fellow students, watching them from a distance, and too afraid that if I am attached, they too will leave me behind.
It’s never fun to sit and think about what’s gone, and knowing that you can’t retrieve it.
I wonder how to stop what I cannot. I wonder how to end the struggle with time that keeps coiling itself around my soul. But there is no solution. This is the beginning of the end. Or rather, was my birth, the beginning of the end?
The days go by, and still, nothing changes. I worry about tomorrow, I dream about yesterday- I wish that there was something I could do to savor every moment I have here.
I am carefree for now. I am young, and strong, and independent. I won’t always be this way.
Why do we take such time for granted? We waste ever minute and they’re gone before you can open your eyes again.
