Two weeks.

It's funny how I see everything as now having an expiration date. My "home", my possessions, my friendships and relationships, my family, even the piece of metal through my lip. My life is a series of endings that bring me a little closer to figuring myself out. I need this next year - I owe it to myself, I owe it to the people who love me, I owe it to the angry teen on anti-depressants. I'm dreaming bigger than ever before but taking more risks than I know how to deal with. Last night I lay in bed and realized how attached I am to the temporary: my dorm, my hobbies, my routine, this seat at the back of the bus...growing up is learning to let go. Growing up is steeling your heart against the what ifs and the same old fears under new guises. In three months from now none of this will matter. I have to move in six weeks and I don't know where I'll be livin, and even then - wherever that mystery location is - I'll be leaving it a month later. I'm scared of getting comfortable and settled into a schedule. I don't want a cushy studio apartment with my 9-5. I want to immerse myself in a new culture, new people, new experiences. I don't want to MAKE a difference; I NEED to.

Lately I've been listening to this band called get cape wear cape fly. They have this song called "Call Me Ishmael" and it sort of defines my life right now: "You are not your job, and you are not the clothes you wear, you are the words that leave your mouth so speak up, speak up loud, for none of us want to sit, in evaluations taking notes for hours, we're all sick and tired of waiting, lets set sail."

My angry tirade yesterday has calmed considerably. I'm starting my ESL course tomorrow. I'm another step towards airports and goodbyes, complacency with myself and my life. Sometimes I wonder what I'll do without you in my life. You will replace me despite attempts to keep in touch. "I miss our talks", you'll say, so you'll miss the memory of me, but not me in the flesh. That's okay, I think it's for the best anyway since you can never give me what I want and I can't stay happy with how we are for very much longer. Clean break or messy break, see it how you will.

When I think about my brother I feel like crying. At the hardest points of my life, I need his approval more than my parents. Strange how things work out.