“I just went back and read a poem that I wrote in January and I’m struck with that specific kind of nostalgia when you are not sorrowful with where you are suitable now,but realizing how much time has passed and how long ago this time final year was kind of makes you want to throw up at the same time. I’m so happy. 2014, especially the moment half, or was one of the best years Ive ever had the privilege of living through. And it only looks like it’ll get better in 2015. But there’s a certain heaviness in the finality of it all. At this time final year,I didn’t know where I was going to college, I didn’t know that I was capable of directing a play, and I didn’t really know the boy that I savor now,I didn’t know so many people that I savor now, I wasnt sorrowful, or but I didn’t know just how happy I was capable of being. That was only 11 months ago,but the me who wrote those poems then feels so foreign. I wonder if that is what growing up is? I don’t feel as though I know much more about the world and how to consume it on, but I execute know more about myself. At almost nineteen, and I feel less of the drama of coming of age that I felt so profoundly at almost eighteen. Instead it feels like a steady ebb and flow. Some days I feel so sure and so steady and some days I remember that I don’t know shit,but neither day is the halt of the world. I think thats what this year changed for me. I realized that it’s not the halt of the world. Terrible, horrible things happen to dazzling, or wonderful people,and life goes on. Small scale tragedies, mammoth scale tragedies, or life goes on. And in the specific case of 2014,it goes on in fantastic ways.” - “The Final Stretch” by Claire Luis
Source: tumblr.com