あきかぜのうた
The ground outside is now covered with snow. I embrace the winter season, with a deep gasp of fresh, frosty air. It's just now gotten cold enough to freeze your lungs the moment you walk outside. I love that. Pace yourself, there are three more months of this. It'll start to wear toward the end.

Six minutes until the cafeteria closes, and I am sitting here, agitated. These days, I only get one real meal every 24 hours. I said I wouldn't do that, but somehow I've done it anyway. It's taking me way too long to write this entry.

I think it's a waste to worry about what others think so much. I used to get so upset over the slightest thing. I still do. Heck knows that's likely never going to go away completely. But I guess putting up with the same shit from the same person, I've stopped trying to figure them out. I've stopped making excuses for them, and I've decided that they are just going to be who they are and nothing more. I am not going to think about the fact that there is something more behind that facade, that there is so much more to one person than anyone can ever understand. I don't see the point in trying to understand a person who just doesn't want to be understood. I just don't have enough patience to keep worrying about them so much. I am not patient enough to not just give up on them. It seems that just as I cannot control who I care for, I also cannot control who I dislike. I cannot make myself care for someone that I've just never had regard for before. You know this is immature. I know it's immature. Because it's not me. I think the greatest immaturity, the greatest crime you can possibly commit against yourself is to misrepresent yourself. I do it all the time. Not much doing about a person who just doesn't want to be who they are. That is something that you cannot control. I am exhausted with life. I am sick of this routine. I am far too young, nearing the end of my 19th year, to spend so many nights alone and so worrisome. I should be making myself happy, right? Isn't college one of the only excuses for a hedonistic philosophy?

I went to a movie by myself last month. I've been meaning to mention that. It was all right; it made me sick to watch it, though, because I was too close to the screen and the camera was shaking a bit in some of the scenes.
My brother goes to movies by himself pretty often. He says that it shouldn't be uncomfortable. You don't talk to the person next to you in the movie theatre. You don't get anything out of company in the movie theatre except for comfort. I used to have a friend who'd go to movies alone, too.
I've always wanted to do things on my own. It's not that I really like it, but what if I could like it if only I tried it? And what if I weren't dependant on others to always do what I want? What if I just did them?
There were couples and groups of friends there. For some reason, seeing them made me feel better. Something reassuring about realizing you are strong. Does being able to do things by yourself on your own time make you strong? Maybe not. But being able to do things you've always wanted to do and being able to look past your apprehension is strong, right?   ¶ 21:48

  For Joy
I can't believe it's already December 4th. In two weeks, the semester will be over and I'll be free! For a month. With a Christmas job of sorts. December always jumps up on me. I always wake up on my birthday and just realize I've passed another year of my life, and nothing feels any different. It seems something so important should feel so significant, but it just doesn't. There's really no distinction.

I had to write an obituary for my final paper in journalism class. My own obituary. I wanted to say that I loved my friends and family. I wanted to say that the most important thing to me was just being happy. Spending time with friends and family, being able to appreciate things. I wanted to say that you may not think I am ambitious, but that is wrong. In my own way, I have great plans to succeed.

And I am certainly ambitious. I want to do great things. I want to know things before others. I want to contribute something to the world. Leave something behind. Often, I feel so strongly the need to write, to sing. But I know that I am only mediocre at both of these. And maybe you think that I am weak for giving up on them. And I think that, too. But I guess to grow up is to become weak. Realistic. Weaker and weaker we become. No longer the strength to chase after a near-impossible dream. Are the great men really only those foolish enough to keep on chasing after a dream, compromising their lives for a life-long yearning? It's all a question of priorities, I suppose. For me, these dreams will likely fade away. Because maybe I just didn't want them quite hard enough. And my dream becomes simple, pure happiness. And happiness is not always such an easy thing to achieve.


This seems like something more fitting for my blog instead of my livejournal...
My family thinks I am the most independent, self-sufficient person. They have faith that I can always do my own thing, and I can always make it on my own. I have felt for a while that I am the complete opposite. I have thought that I am completely dependent on others, that I need other people to make my way. It's not true. If I can leave all my friends behind, if I can go somewhere I've never been before, without a single familiar face, I must be at least a little bit independent. I am not instinctively independent, but I can force myself to be. I can push myself to make the right decisions, even when they are difficult, even when they mean leaving everything behind. You can think that I am clingy, you can say that I am weak; I will fight my hardest for things to stay the same, but I know my limit, and I will not let myself be broken just because I am afraid things will be too hard. Because that is the weakest person I could possibly be.   ¶ 03:38