I know this notebook is solely meant for my book notes but this is a journal entry because I need it to
be and want it to be. I am currently sitting on the stairs across from the library at my school. Usually
I like to write in complete silence. I feel like it helps me focus better, helps my writing flow better,
make more sense, but today is the first time I’m trying something different by sitting outside hearing
all the sounds of the world around me. Granted I did go looking for an empty study cubby in the
library and didn’t find one, I would usually go to the caf where it is even more noisier than where I’m
sitting, and just be on my phone. But I did something different today. Hearing the world around me is
definitely refreshing sometimes because I tend to shut it out. Right now I hear lots of chatter, the
library door slamming and open and closed, I wonder does anyone else notice the little sounds, the
slight breeze and how faint yet how great it feels. The air isn’t this breathable or fresh feeling
everywhere. The Sun is trying to peek out but every time I see an inch of Sun, I see 10 more clouds
to cover it. Life. That’s life. You put in an inch and best believe you will only be roadblocked with
10 more inches of a brick wall. Meaning you have to give your life and all its endeavors 100% or you
won’t get anything out of it.
God I fucking hate bees, like seriously, who thought it was ok to create the bee? 95% of people hate
them, must’ve been the devil.
I remember when I was younger I used to be so carefree, didn’t even realize. I wanted to grow up so
fast, so that I could do whatever I wanted. Little did I know, that “doing whatever I wanted” would
come with a price. Nothing in this world is free, I didn’t know. I wish this world was just like my 5
year old fantasies. I mean, at times it is/was. But most times it isn’t and I wish I was 5 again. Five
again, no cares in the world, just sleep, eat, play, do some light hw here and there. No job, no
responsibilities, Deedee and China were my ride or dies, I wish I still believed that they were real.
Maybe then depression wouldn’t cloud my mind as often. Wish I still believed my stuffed animals had
something to learn from me. Setting up class for them, giving them hw. Basically putting them
through everything I dreaded, pretending to be an authoritative figure because that was the ultimate
dream. To be an adult. Now I am. An adult. Kind of. It’s really not all it’s cracked up to be. Just a
bunch of responsibilities, mental trauma, etc. As a child going through my teenage years, I always
though being an adult, I can do whatever I want, have it all figured out, but once you get there, once
you have or experience that moment when it’s time to make real choices that will have real effects on
your future, you’ll make the wrong one and suffer the consequences. So yeah you’ll make that choice
confidently because you think you know every got damn thing but you don’t, and while you’re
suffering those consequences that’s when it’ll click. “Hey, I don’t know wtf I’m doing.”, “Why me?”,
“Why didn’t I do this instead?” It’s only the beginning because this cycle will happen again and again
and again, because all you know is your fantasy, not what’s real. You have to learn reality. Acquire
skills. That cycle is life, this is what you wanted to be at 5? Wow. What a fucking dream.
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