Ice cream was made for gloomy days like this.
I don't know where it all went wrong. It was 76 degrees yesterday. 76 degrees. I freaking went to the beach on Saturday. But now all is lost. It's cold outside. I'm wearing my potato clothes, clothes that should have been in hibernation. This is not my happy place.
These are some dope-ish pictures I took from watching the track & field team practice, back during better days when the wind was under 10 miles per hour and the sun existed.
By the way, the beach was awesome on Saturday. It was 70 degrees and warm and I got to splash around in the water and embarrass my best friend in the process. I can't wait to move closer to the ocean. Whether it's Santa Barbara or Hawaii or Santa Cruz or Long Beach, I know I am going to be so much happier in a coastal town. Not in a dreary death trap.
For some reason, math class brings out a really creative side of me that seems to get blocked out otherwise. I don't know. I feel like I've already lost my muse, and it's not even March yet.
Every time I try to be somewhat productive, I remember how fast everything moves. Months go by every time I close my eyes. First it's March, then April, spring, summer, fall semester, winter finals, and before I know it- there goes another year. Prom, senior trip, graduation, road trip, Disneyland, Hawaii, legal birthday, first day of college. I'm eighteen, then I'm twenty-one, twenty-five, thirty, forty, sixty, eighty, dead. Bam. That's it. There's my life.
I am having another one of those meltdowns where I realize how little I've done and, at the same time, suffer from how little I want to do. I want to fly around the world and curl up in my bed at the same time. I want to change a generation and never speak again.