To sit back and think of the ups and downs of the last five years would be enough to cause mental collapse. Last night I had the film professor spend the night and it was a dire mistake. I freaked out again. I feel bad, it was a fault on both sides. What was nice was I went to therapy and actually just talked about it and it was done.
I will send him an email telling him that I am emotionally retarded. I am torn down the middle. Go to LA and leave me here to heal myself. When you return perhaps I shall be a different person, but let's keep the short time that we had together as memories. Memories of what could have been. Let's not try and make it into something that cannot be.
Then it will be more poetic that way and less upsetting.
Onto other things. Like that of the end of college. It's over . . .I was told I need to pick the right exit music. What do I leave the campus, as my last thought? Rose's Turn? I'm Going Back? I can't decide. It'll come to me tomorrow after the final. I will find it. Probably something Nina Simone. It must be appropriate though. Just must.
Now some stream-of-conscience —
I see a door, it's a plain brown square with a single knob. It's nothing frightening aside from the large imposing shadow it casts towards me. Beyond the door is unknown, which is the terrifying part of it all. I know I need to go beyond this door, but I am afraid. Nervous. People say it's silly and that I look around and see everyone else has survived. Yet, this door has been something I've been working towards for years, weeks days and months. I will go through the door, but I am still nervous.
No comments:
Post a Comment