This time, though, I am writing because I am drinking tea and listening to the Decemberists, and what other choice do I have on this Saturday night but to release my thoughts and hopes and dreams and innards onto this slightly public page. And to think, I so often rebel against our lack of yearning for privacy, and I am making the problem extend just a little further.
All digressions aside, I really don't have much of substance to say. I am overwhelmed, taken in by the tide of school work and life work and my utter and complete fear. I hate that, my fear, my anxiety. My future...well, I have faith that it will work out, but I am still in the stage of unknowing AND of fearing those shadows. I am waiting to hear about my summer and about my next year and about beyond...it's the beyond that comforts me, strangely enough. The beyond is still full of hope and promise and life and my own ability to do what I need.
Oh boy. Sleepy tea is kicking in.
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