Respite, but not really

   1st Semester of the 2nd year, DONE. Enrollment soon, and a dumb standardized exam in November.

   To think that it's already the end of October. Everything is set to go. 2016 just around the corner. I'm almost 20, holy crap I'm an adult. This feels wrong. I'm not even ready for this. I'M ALMOST 20.

   A lot has happened, I'm too tired to specify, and I binged on Scott Pilgrim because it seems totally relatable right now. I'm Scott Pilgrim, romantically, and I'm like devouring Homestuck at the rate I'm reading it, and I forgot where I was going with this and I usually do go to something like a problem, but I can't... 'cause there... isn't really any problem right now. There isn't. This feels weird. Maybe it's something like a soldier experiencing PTSD after returning from war. By war, I meant school. PosT-Sem Disorder. Nailed it.

   I'm so used to having at least a problem that maybe I need one to function properly. Sadly, as I get used to R&R, 2nd Sem would just pop-up and ruin the mini-vacation. (UGHHHHH) But I think I'm getting a hang of all this. Like everything is working like a machine and you just gotta do your part. Clockwork. But this weird Post-sem disorder is just an itch I can't get rid of. I don't know the source, or maybe I do but I'm just too lazy to write whatever lead up to this PTSD. It's actually a long story, and it wouldn't be a long story if I just wrote every piece of it here, but that would make this blog more of a diary than a journal, though at this point what's the difference? To sum it up, it's all an internal strife of existentialist BS, mixed with terrible, if not asinine, consequent mistakes that would eventually confuse me as to my relationships with anyone and everyone around me. It's vague, but not wrong. It's all followed up by the constant fear of the future and the daily reminder of the inevitability of change, so no biggie.

   But enough about that for at least A MONTH. This is the big break of the year. Time to reorganize myself to jump right back at it. Which I'll probably cram until the last day of the sembreak. Hopefully this weird feeling isn't really a problem that's trying to remind me that it exists at the back of my mind. I really hope it's just PTSD. Hopefully it's just boredom. Worst case scenario, it's a problem, and I'll have to deal with it. Which doesn't sound that bad. Huh. Then, no problem. Whatever happens, happens, then.

   No nuggets of knowledge this time. Just relaxation, flowing through life, getting through sh*t. That's all there is. I'll have plenty of time to stress over things and figuratively poop out little wizdomz when the second semester starts.

   

Statue

   Change is inevitable. I have always emphasized that, and it's one of the few reasons why I write. Though I've come to terms with it not too long ago, it's always unpleasant, or even painful, to see how things broke off from what things used to be. There's no use crying over spilled milk, but the fact that something was wasted still eats at you. You won't cry, but at the very least, it will be something to think of later on.

   It's a lot like looking at a statue that you've known ever since you were born, but no one ever thought cleaning it up or fixing it later on, letting the environment change it. Many times you'll glance at it, seeing it as a whole, as it originally was, and reality reminds you that: "No, that's not how it is anymore." Almost immediately, you'll be snapped out of the flashbacks and you'll start to notice how the statue has been weathered after being out in the open for so long, and how it's missing some if it's fingers or even the whole hand. You'll notice cracks on certain parts and stains on the other. Like it was a shadow of its former appearance. The changes you see in life could be seen by the pieces broken off of what your life once was. As the wind chips off the smaller, weaker parts of the statue, so does the changes in your life. Though in a perspective of wholeness, every part is valuable to the whole, so no matter how little breaks off, we're never "just okay" with things, and the moment we see the little pieces that were once part of us, the pieces we once thought we would never let go of, it hurts. Though we love the beauty of consistency and completeness, but we also need to learn to love the concept of how beauty is easily lost. It's how we move on.

   Though we may not be statues, our lives make a great form of art. Unfortunately the final output isn't what you'd expect it to be, and many ideas and parts are going to be discarded. Your original view of what should be would never fit with what you want it to be, and when all is said and done, sometimes we'll have regrets and we won't always have do-overs. It's those pieces that would never fit well anymore with us that we long for the most, because it's impossible to. We long for things we can never have. What about the things we can fix? We could easily try bring back what once was. It's never too late or too wrong to bring back things that we once grew accustomed to, but at what cost? It's only a matter of time before change swings by. You could preserve a statue indoors. You could avoid change by not trying at all. In the end, no one will be able to appreciate the statue, and a life not lived isn't worth anything at all.

   Ultimately, we ride the current of change, whether we like it or not. Then all that's left to do is like it. After all, it's just easier that way.