Monday, November 25

the last summer

Gosh, with such an intense title, I better write something half decent.

Summer is coming, just like a wave rolling in towards the shore, building up and making little bubbles of foam. This summer is one of my last without proper adult responsibilities, and I do wish to squeeze every last drop of summery-goodness when it finally does come round.
(Who doesn't like December and January, the end, the new. The birthdays, Christmas, the start of a brand new year, a new outlook on everything, 'tis pretty marvellous really.)

I find myself stuck in an interesting state of mind.

On one hand I'm rejoicing and letting my hair loose and making lists with my best friend of things we absolutely have to do, and on my mood board, I've tacked lists of movies to watch because, guys, it's almost summer and I'm going to be fifteen in two weeks.

But on the other, I'm sitting at my desk at school, telling myself to concentrate over and over; telling myself to be serious, and that I've still got 18 days of school, so get a hold of yourself and answer that darn question page 56.

You've been hearing a lot about 'growing up' and the 'future' from me these days in jumbled up excuses for posts because it's hovering constantly. It's like a special glow, and my life seems tainted by the promises, both heavy and amazingly exciting, of adulthood. I am always reminded that every single choice, nay, every wisp of a thought, every expression on my face, somehow determines one small portion of the rest of my life. That scares me. It all does, really... For crying out loud, I can't even chose between cookie-dough or strawberry-cheescake as ice-cream flavours, and you're expecting me to apply for a job - part-time, yes, but a job with RESPONSIBILITIES?

1 thoughts:

  1. i was about to ask what you mean by summer, but then i remembered things are different where you live.

    as usual, it's absolutely lovely reading your posts! xx.


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