You realize a lot of things in 12 days – much more in 12 months. The past two weeks have been a blur to me, but I won’t get into that here.
I’ve learned what love is, or rather, how to express it.
Love is aloe vera on hot red skin just before it peels due to sunburn;
Love is notes on a computer screen you type up in a word processor, setting important words like “amazing” and others in colors and boldface;
Love is unending patience;
Love is a corrected language stretching across newsprint;
Love is a limerick on dry-erase boards decorated with flowery titles;
Love is shopping over budget just because those second pair of jeans are just as important as the first;
Love is saying “fuck it” to the important things later in order to keep sanity now;
Love is hugging someone despite being covered with grime and dirt;
Love is still unending patience;
Love is anything that makes you smile;
Love is bargain buys through online auctions;
Love is good.
The end is near. I think I’ve become quite exhausted, but I don’t think anyone can tell (or care). In between internships and (now) finals, I’ve realized that I’ve come this close to spreading myself too thin. But I know I can persevere and I will succeed. This will be the best year of my life yet, but no doubt my most difficult.
Which is funny, because it’ll also be the year I can drink alcohol legally.
I’m not too thrilled at the thought of my friends getting their hands on me and whisking me off to the closest bar. I know they’d never force me to do something I wouldn’t like, but … really, I’d rather cook chicken marsala with a nice bottle of marsala wine for everybody that I bought myself.
Happy birthday to me, in eight months and 13 days.
