Innately Foreign

So after trying to re-fall asleep in the loft today at 11:30 this morning (I ran up to the loft with my blankets and locked the door so as to escape Becky's purposefully annoying singing of Chop Suey's infamous 'Wake up! something something make-up' line), I realize that I am 20 years old. SHIEETT! Despite being 20 years old for about two months now, it was not until today that I FULLY realized what being 20 years old entails. (Sidenote: I swear I have some sort of disability when it comes to expressing my thoughts. They are so eloquently woven in my interior monologues, but come out as verbal vomit when I try to tell other people. Another realization I had today. Oy.)

Never before has life seemed to short to me. There are so many things in this world, I realize, that I want to experience, savor, and become, that I want to just get out there and do something. I haven't felt passionate in so long and, in that respect, I don't like what I have become. How did I ever let myself get complacent with a passionless life?!

Perhaps this mode of thinking has been incited by a recent rewatching of Dead Poets Society and the attractiveness of Henry Thoreau's quote, "I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived,"but all I can say for sure is that this feeling is real. I want to live, I want to live, I want to live. That's all I can really say about my dilemma right now and as accurately as I can capture it.

To my future self:

Live passionately, love intensely, and enjoy.