This is such an awkward phase. I’ve officially finished the second round of midterms, but there’s absolutely nothing to look forward to. All of the shows that I follow have concluded and there are no movies to watch. So, here I am watching Skins UK. It’s quite an awkward show considering how dysfunctional the characters’ lives are. Anywho, I need to get my act together. I need to stop gorging on sweets, work out, tune my sleeping schedule, and just stop slacking.

Another thing. I miss our friendship. I hate how your feelings changed everything between us. It was difficult because I couldn’t overcome my paranoia that all my actions were leading you on. You don’t deserve to be taken for a fool. I didn’t want to lead you on. And, now it’s like we’re not even friends anymore.

I don’t know if liking you is a good or bad thing. You really made my day yesterday when you came up to me. I don’t think that you had special intentions, but talking to you made me happy. I never really got to know you but I wish I still did. I was going to ask if you were going to stick around for another year, but Matt came up to me. Sigh. Such awful timing. I think you’re a really nice guy and get taken for granted. I’ve seen that at meetings and it makes me sad. You kinda seem gloomy most of the time and that just makes me want to give you a big hug. This sounds awfully foolish and naive, but that’s the best way that I can describe my feelings.

I yearn for strawberries. Oh, so much. I yearn so much that it seems like I’d eat anything that resembles one. Why?

Porqueee? I would also like some motivation please. This spring fever is awful. I have a midterm coming up and I feel so lazy. Eeeeek. Second year is coming to an end. This is rather tragic. Last year I was trying to prolong something by ignoring the circumstances. The death mark of secrecy. I just don’t really know. I’m not really making sense. It just sucks because I thought I didn’t care and tried not to, but I ended up caring.

Aghh, I really want a strawberry.

Well, it’s official. I’ve been breathing for twenty years. It’s quite odd that ten years ago I was in the fourth grade. I was living the awkward life. I hadn’t started journaling yet so I honestly don’t know what I really did. I remember restarting Chinese school with the little first graders, suddenly getting hives all the time, and not that much else. It’s funny how the greatest things happened towards the end of my teens. I guess this really is the prime time of my life. Let my twenties prevail.

I need to stop worrying, but I honestly can’t. It’s so hard to take things step by step. I’m either speedwalking through life or speedwalking through life. Where is my happy medium?

When I see birches bend to left and right
Across the lines of straighter darker trees,
I like to think some boy’s been swinging them.
But swinging doesn’t bend them down to stay
As ice storms do. Often you must have seen them
Loaded with ice a sunny winter morning
After a rain. They click upon themselves
As the breeze rises, and turn many-colored
As the stir cracks and crazes their enamel.
Soon the sun’s warmth makes them shed crystal shells 
Shattering and avalanching on the snow crust—
Such heaps of broken glass to sweep away
You’d think the inner dome of heaven had fallen.
They are dragged to the withered bracken by the load,
And they seem not to break; though once they are bowed
So low for long, they never right themselves:
You may see their trunks arching in the woods
Years afterwards, trailing their leaves on the ground
Like girls on hands and knees that throw their hair
Before them over their heads to dry in the sun.
But I was going to say when Truth broke in
With all her matter of fact about the ice storm,
I should prefer to have some boy bend them
As he went out and in to fetch the cows—
Some boy too far from town to learn baseball,
Whose only play was what he found himself,
Summer or winter, and could play alone.
One by one he subdued his father’s trees
By riding them down over and over again
Until he took the stiffness out of them,
And not one but hung limp, not one was left
For him to conquer. He learned all there was
To learn about not launching out too soon
And so not carrying the tree away
Clear to the ground. He always kept his poise
To the top branches, climbing carefully
With the same pains you use to fill a cup
Up to the brim, and even above the brim.
Then he flung outward, feet first, with a swish,
Kicking his way down through the air to the ground.
So was I once myself a swinger of birches.
And so I dream of going back to be.
It’s when I’m weary of considerations,
And life is too much like a pathless wood
Where your face burns and tickles with the cobwebs
Broken across it, and one eye is weeping
From a twig’s having lashed across it open.
I’d like to get away from earth awhile
And then come back to it and begin over.
May not fate willfully misunderstand me
And half grant what I wish and snatch me away
Not to return. Earth’s the right place for love:
I don’t know where it’s likely to go better.
I’d like to go by climbing a birch tree,
And climb black branches up a snow-white trunk
Toward heaven, till the tree could bear no more,
But dipped its top and set me down again.
That would be good both going and coming back.
One could do worse than be a swinger of birches.