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Finale
I sit here before finals, the future wide open. I'm on the brink of the end. As it's said, however, the end of one thing is merely the beginning of something else: my pitfall into real life. I suppose I really can't say I'm done yet, since I haven't even taken the tests yet or passed. But I'm not worried about failing. No, what I'm truly worried about right now is failing life.
I decided to postpone graduate school until the fall. Going directly into classes two weeks after graduation wouldn't be long enough of a break. I deserve a break. I haven't had one in four years, having taking classes every summer and ever winter break, instead. I need some time to sort things out, work a little, maybe save up some money.
Why does a voice in the back of my mind keep nagging me to jump ship, here? I know I've written about this countless times, but topics as persistent as this should be revisited. Here's my dilemma: my life feels wrong. Sure, everything in my life is working, but it just feels like something's not right. I hate that, because again it's this terrible battle between my heart and my head. Knowing I should stay and work for sake of stability and security, but unsure whether I should. I know this sounds overly dramatic, but I honestly feel like something is dying inside of me.
Maybe it's something I want to let go of, something I should let go of. But as I said before, the thing that worries me the most is that I could just give up right now, turn a blind eye to this whole mess, and by ignoring the voice in the back of my head I'd stay here and finish this to the end. That is the problem. I don't want ignorant numbness, no matter how blissful it may be. Sure, if I stay here, I'll amass large quantities of money, read many books, continue life here at this one stagnation. But the image that thought conjures is one of a river that has been dammed up. Granted, it grows into this massively majestic lake, but it's ultimate purpose was to run free to the ocean.
I've lived so many places, experienced so many things that you'd think I'd be able to settle down now and concentrate on life, instead of actually "living." But I don't want just comfort. I want pain and toil and strife. I haven't cried in so long, and I miss my friends. I want the possibility of wrecking my life; riding the edge with the possibility of falling over. I don't want to live life with only the possibility of not failing.
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