LAST DAY OF CLASSES
So I looked through the poetry section of my notebook to see if I could find any useful notes. Useful? Ha. But I did find some pretty pictures and random song lyrics all running on the same theme. It's good to see that some things don't change.
I'm proud. I dimly recall the girl of months ago fearing she'd never make it this far. I've lasted and continue to go strong. Endurance became difficult. I don't know how many pages I've written. Certainly over fifty. I feared burning out and hating what I once loved. Nope, not yet. I feel I write better now (at least academically -- my rambles haven't shifted much). I have learned a few things. The passion remains.
How did it get so late so soon?
Can I be honest?
(No, no, of course not! Geesh, Di, what were you thinking?)
I'm scared of surgery. Going under. Pain. Being immobile again. The violent need to pee. (Only kididng about that last one, but Buddy very passionately urges that I do it beforehand.)
But I know that the moment I wake up marks the beginning of a full recovery.
I have a little secret. A goal I don't want to say too loudly. But I can see it. I really can.