So I am sitting in front of my personal statement. I have been doing so for about three weeks now. It stares at me, my possible future. The future that I want, but the future that I'm not sure I have the power to grasp. I look back with glossy eyes, thinking of the past few months. Oh, how has my life changed, and yet not many would see it. I see it, but I don't talk about it. I can't talk about it. Who would believe it really?
The personal statement, a group of choppy yet articulate sentences, bunched together into what makes up the pathetic half twisted ideas I have for myself. And my "editors" tell me that my plan is so perfect. My future is so bright. All I have to do is walk the path, keep to that plan. But then, there is the other parts of my life...my dangerous desires. The people/things that shouldn't be held above my future, above reaching these goals. Am I so devoted that I can not move on with my life? Do I really want to move on with my life? They make me happy, if even for a few moments. And happiness seems so much harder to come by these days. Wine helps, the Beatles, working, Mamma Mia!, the moments....
We were leaving the bar. My arm was slung loosely over your shoulder. I rolled onto my tiptoes, tugged you closer, pressed my cheek against yours and closed my eyes. Breathed you in. It was a millisecond of perfection. A minute snippet of the everyday that I don't want to forget. Mostly I can't forget.
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