Independance
QuestionableA life under the roof of my parents. The grass and flowers that I see through the same glass door that I've seen them for five years still nod and sway the same as always.
Change is so powerful.
You know?
No. It's hard to wrap your head around it.
Impermanence. Like the fourth dimension. Time. It is the fourth dimension.
Every aspect of my childhood. . . every bug caught, every book read to me by a parent, every toy lost, every school field trip, every best friend. . . is now. . . and always will be. Past. History. Memory.
Some I will retain for a lifetime.
Others will doubtless be forgotten.
Because humans suffer from a thing terrible and glorious, hideous and necessary, unwanted and utterly good.
Planned obsolescence.
Every see the sequel to "The Brave Little Toaster"?
That's where I first heard the word.
Appliances that are made to break after a few years so they have to be replaced.
That way the company keeps making money.
People are built this way.
We're made to fall apart after a while.
On the cosmic scale of things a very short while.
I understand why Keats was so fascinated with the idea that he'd die before he got to do all the things he wanted.
If there's one thing that's still terrifying to me it's thinking about all this change. This chaos and the temporariness of everything.
But I have spun off in a different direction than where I what I wanted to talk about.
I'm moving out now. I'm going to live my own life.
It's such a strange feeling. For years I watched kids do this and now it's my turn.
I'm really actually very excited, but it's got me so emotional it's hard to tell.
I doubt my life will be this simple and easy for a long time.
Well.
I have three more days of it.
Bewildered
Bemused
Shame
Seasonal
