August 08, 2004
Day NineteenMy mother just opened my bedroom door and told me it's late. Once again, I have put off writing my entry until I'm too tired to properly convey my feelings; I'm seeing a pattern here. What part of me is so afraid of intelligently analysing my current place and time? What secret am I witholding from even myself that would cause such subconcious deception? Is it the depression that comes from another "Last..."? Tonight was quite possibly the last DVD party I'll host with the regular high school crew. The finality of it is almost overwhelming. There are too many endings and too few beginnings at this point in my life. An entire day has been devoted to cutting ties, even as a promise to maintain them. Why do I torment myself?Because to not have the "Last..." for all of these things would be the greater torment. I mourn what I am moving on from. It is better than the regret that comes with not saying Good Bye at all. The current carries me forward, and I can either ride it or ignore it and futilely hope it goes away. The time that remains for such ignorance is vanishing far quicker than I had hoped. Alas, on to the future.
posted by Adam at 03:28 |
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Adam Freelance Film Critic
Albany, NY
Boston, MA
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