July 27th, 2012
7:30 PM
I think it’s about time I made a mistake. As I sit her in my cooled Hyundai listening to Symphony No. 40 in G minor by Mozart, sun setting and people moving, I reflect upon my own life and its contents. I sit here, 18 years old, and what am I really fretting about? So far I’ve made my share of mistakes, there’s no doubt about that whatsoever. Though in this big jumble of life I’ve equally overcame each of them leaving me with tougher skin and a fight to pursue the best. How much better of a person I’ve become each time, mistakes made, lessons learned? I’d like to call each of my mishaps good classes in life. The school of experience easily fills a life with readied gumption and plenty of anxiety. Each moment is cherished and yet sometimes I find myself just waiting until the next moment comes along. During times of pain, anxious deliberation, and unwanted thinking I can only dream of a time I could make sense of words, reality, and erratic emotions. Textbooks never covered this kind of stuff if I could only remember such impersonal education. Life tells you in basic terms, “figure it out!” but I can only find time to minimally cope with some of the situations thrown at me in my face leaving me with a distorted and uncovered sense of reality.
