"All books are either dreams or swords." |
It's raining, my favorite time of year. The sound of the rain hitting the pavement outside my window fills me with bliss and hope. The rains bring a new sense of beginning, cleansing the land and air from dirt and soot as the fires rage in the hills. It is Nature's purity system, beautiful with its simplicity and meaning. I might be able to sleep tonight. Tonight's been good. There is no and every reason for it to be both. My fever spiked tonight, leaving me no choice but to say home for class as to not infect my classmates. Angry vegans with sharpened pencils coming at my direction is not a pretty picture. But I talked to with my love, and chilled with my mom, had a philosophical conversation with my father, and picked out non-sense but intriguing classes for next semester. Suddenly, I have found myself looking for to the next coming months without dread. Completely unheard for me. My mother and father had a conversation (nearly died hearing the news) about me possibly going through a burn-out. After fighting the concept for half a decade I think I finally agree with them. Mind fried, bodily fatigued, I want nothing more than a slice of serenity like a piece of freshly baked pumpkin pie. One day. It will all happen one day. Until then, I have to the rain to keep me company. "The soul, secure in her existence, smiled at the drawn dagger and defies its point." |