“for i am forever changing”

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when you just want to sit and wallow in a puddle of your own tears for a while

you're not necessarily still sad
but you know there is sadness still, which you haven't yet tapped into

you could easily turn to do something else
in fact, crying becomes the more difficult
but you persevere

because you just want to sit and wallow in a puddle of your own tears for a while

---

I blink and it's August.
I feel like the summer weather just started.

It's almost time for school. I can't wait.
I wonder what it'll be like when I graduate.
Approaching Septembers, I mean.
After spending all my Augusts looking forward to Septembers, what a huge change it'll be.

But I'm not there yet. I still have time.
I'll try not to blink so much.

---

Something about summertime awakens the dreamer in me
Something about the smell of grass when the air is warm
makes me want to get up and go
on an adventure

I want to escape my regular life
and do something crazy
do something different
something life-changing

Summer lives without any commitments, any strings-attached.
I am free of any mental baggage
My mind is light and predisposed to drift
to where my body cannot.

---

I really don't like waiting for sequels for books.
I feel like by the time they've come out, I've already moved on to the next stage of my life.

When I was younger, I really liked Children of the Lamp.
I feel cute
thinking back about it.
But I finished the series, because by the time the later books had come out, I had grown older than the recommended "9-12" age group under which it was shelved at Chapters.
I never got the full story, and though I don't particularly care to read it again, I kind of wish I had been able to finish it.

I find myself going to Wikipedia now, just to find out what happens.
Is this closure?

I was also a big fan of the Sisters Grimm series.
I, again, feel very cute.
Honestly, I just really wish Puck and Sabrina had just ADMITTED THEIR LOVE FOR EACH OTHER ALREADY OH MY GOODNESS THE TENSION WAS UNBEARABLE.
But I, I bore it.
And I regret growing too old to finish the series.

(I have acquired the habit of biting my hand, and am continuously reminded of Daphne.)

I am glad that I was still able to finish a Series of Unfortunate Events. I think I started reading it in Grade 3 or 4.
Well actually, I don't really know.
I just know that the last book came out when I was in Grade 7.

I sort of want to clarify something: when I talk about being "too old" to read some books, I don't mean to imply that there is a specific exclusive age group for these books. I simply mean that as the years passed, I simply no longer felt the desire to read the new books that came out.

I am waiting currently for the last book of the Kingkiller Chronicle trilogy.
OOH RIGHT? YEAH OOH.
It's been almost three years since the release of the second book.
I'd forgotten I'd been waiting for this third book.
I've forgotten much of what happened in the first and second books.
I will read them again, so that I will get the most out of the third when it comes out.

This is just like how it was with the Inheritance Cycle too (omg cute). There was such a long gap between the publication of the books, that I'd forgotten a lot of the plot.

I googled the release date, and the author anticipates late 2015 or 2016.
I might cry.
But time has long since dulled my emotions from the roaring desire I had felt following the completion of the second novel to follow Kvothe's life that the story had planted in my inner soul a great three years ago.
So I don't really feel enough to cry.
But I am disappointed.

I regret that I haven't allowed myself to fully enjoy books as much as I used to. I feel tainted. I used to read a lot of fantasy and romances (lol angsty teen romances). Nowadays, I feel like I'm too good for some fiction. I don't read YA fiction. Which to be honest, isn't really going to change anytime soon, I think. I don't read serial books anymore. Because it seems to have taken over YA, and I suppose I just feel many serial books are unremarkable.
Of course there are exceptions (HARRY POTTER WHAT).
I don't read romances.
I feel like I've grown to think I'm too good for these genres. Light fiction. But ironically, this was the fiction that made me love reading and the fiction that excited me so much back when I was a child and teen. I feel tainted because I feel like now that I've lived marginally a bit more, the plots and events in these stories seem uninspiring. Especially the romances. I find the characters extremely irritating and their feelings dumb.
I feel like, though perhaps the stuff I read today might be "meaningful" somehow, it takes a lot more effort to read and reading is no longer something I do for entertainment or pure enjoyment.

To be honest, I still really love fantasy. It stretches your mind and brings you to places formed from someone else's imagination.

I want to get lost in a book again.

---

---

I have two homes.

One is with my parents
the house I grew up in
with the bed, books, clothes, remnants of my childhood so familiar to me
It's the one home I always have
to return to.

The other is in the city
the place I learned to cook for myself, clean up after myself, take care of myself
and the place I was first able to live
my own life according to how I wanted to live it.

The first has always been my constant. It is home home. "True" home.
But I know that someday that will change. My sense of home will shift to wherever I live independently.

It is that shift that is so trepidatious to me.
Because I feel myself becoming more accustomed to another bed
another scene to open my eyes to in the morning
another still to close my day off with at night
a longing for a place other than my "true" home

My life is changing. The constants in my life have become variables.
My feeling of home is displaced.

---

I love bright sunny days
and being outside during.
It's one of the things I love best.

Since I live in a basement, I don't really get light. I don't know whether it's sunny or gloomy or ordinary that day. When I open the door and the sun shines down on me, the sky is clear and blue, I feel as if I'm being fed and healed and revived.
I feel regret at not going out earlier in the day.
A happy regret.

Today, I woke up late. As Laura, my roommate, opens the door to leave, she exclaims, "It's such a nice day outside! It's so sunny!"
I'm not yet ready to leave home yet though. I'm feeling slow today. Not a sad slow or anything, just slow. It's like a lazy day.

The call and the lure of a beautiful day is strong. I don't want to miss out on a beautiful day.
I get nothing of that inside.
The weather app on my phone said it'd be cloudy.

As I'm making myself some tea, I notice that it's awfully warm in our apartment. I decide to open the tiny window above the kitchen counter. Now, I thought I should clarify, this window does basically nothing in terms of light -- it's tiny and looks out to the wall of the neighbouring house. But open it I do, for the fresh air.
And it feels so nice.
The cool breeze drifting in, awakening me.

And I want to go outside.

But
not really. I'm not yet ready to do anything. I want to stay in the comfort of my own home and sort of meander about, eating and studying as I choose.

I don't want to miss out.

And then I think
I have the rest of my life. There will be so many more beautiful, revitalizing, sunny sunny days.
I have so many years ahead of me.
I'm not missing anything
because I'll have it tomorrow.

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