I'm back at school thinking about how impossible it is to figure my life out. I also think about why I would even bother to try and figure things out. I waste more time trying to understand why than I do simply living. I sit in my room waiting for something to happen. I should be working on this and that, particularly that which will have to be finished before I can sleep tonight, rather I am sitting here like the kid I wish I still were posting on a blog and listening to punk music...I spend my life in an argument with who I am supposed to be. For every step I take toward my future, I long to take two steps back into the carefree days when going to school meant going to school, before going to school meant growing up and being professional. I never quite know when it is that I was satisfied with where I was. The thought crosses my mind that I'd be happy frozen in time last winter, at that point things were making sense without being overbearing. I liked that place where I knew who I was as a child without making the next unpleasant step. I fear that I've had my chance to do whatever it is that I may want to do, and now I'm left with what I have to do.