Occasionally, I get a bit angst-y (see last post). Then again, so does everyone. I think I've worn myself quite thin, though, with my moping and sighing and all of my major, major anxiety. Alas.
However, you need not worry for me (I know you are terribly concerned with my well-being, of course) because I have taken up a new look on life. I think I've always been quite the optimist, but I am also somewhere in my teenage years and, true to stereotypes, I get angst.
My thoughts are this: "He not busy being born, is busy dying." (That's what Bob Dylan taught me.)
I will kiss cute boys, simply because they're cute. Simply because I can.
I will wear old sweaters that Wilson gives me, because I am young and it doesn't matter.
I will dance in public.
I will read entire novels in single afternoons.
I will go to birthday parties on week days, and get in flour fights.
I will wave goodbye to my blonde tresses. In fact, I made an appointment to do just that. Because I am young and I only live once, you know.
How do we feel about this color?
Because that's what I'm doing, I think.
Don't mind me. I'm only a skeleton, after all.
All my love,