God. I feel like my college years are over and done with, I still have one more. But I feel like they're gone. I always become incredibly nostalgic whenever I'm in my room, in my bed, in Little Rock (I hate Little Rock). I wouldn't give anything to be a freshman again. I've done that. I don't want to do it again. But. There was something so thrilling and fresh about being eighteen. Of course, I was also naive and nervous and inexperienced (or at least more so), and I wouldn't want to be that person again. It was exhausting.

Still. Still.

I feel old. I'm going to be twenty-two in about a month, tell me, where did years 19-22 go?

They went by in classrooms and bars and bedrooms. Mostly. Not so much in bars, but I like the way that sounds.

Why do the words, "When you're married with children" sound so foreign coming out of my mom's mouth? And it's always spoken of as though this is, obviously, my goal. Honestly, my sights are set on happiness in the form of success and peace with myself, doing things that interest me, things that I love (of course, this is vague, but so am I). It shouldn't piss me off that she says this so often, but it does. I can do so many more things than find a man get pregnant. I wish this were acknowledged more often.

I think if I removed the more grating aspects of my personality (you know, that questioning shit that's probably easier left alone and how angry I get about people's thoughtless words), I'd be more pleasant to be around. Granted, I don't let all this shit out to just anyone I run into on the street, but god, I really just can't keep my opinions to myself.