Where does a thought go when it's forgotten?

Finally I get to seat down and contemplate about my freshmen year in Ntu. Its been a ride, and i'm enjoying da waves...so far. Yes, there's definitely been those nights when you're up at 4am and felt like dying. Then again, if you were dying, I'd imagine it would have felt a hell lot worse. (pun untended) I am g r a t e f u l I chose to go there. An unusually tough year it had been with da changes I made mid-way in da semester... that which those who know, already knew soI shan't go on to elaborate.

For better or for worse? Obvious, to be better is a state I wanna be in, that being said,  I dont think I have da answer to right now. We'll have to keep going to find out. I like the arrangement kismet or fate or da Gods has been working to my favour of taking 2 courses at da same time. Its like buying your favourite boots in 2 different colors! What's not to love? Da freedom of not getting imprisoned in your body by a lack of words is empowering while da feeling of letting someone in on da exact thoughts you're having could sometimes be just enchanting.

Moving on, some things have changed... or so I think. I no longer crave to perform anymore. I'm still pondering if that's a good thing. Maybe I just need to take some time off. Away from all these glittery shenanigans and get down to basics again. Clear out da dusty mind, figure out a direction and probably work out some genius philosophy along da way if da machinery starts pumping up abit.

I've always, essentially, been waiting. Waiting to become something else, waiting to be that person I always thought I was on da verge of becoming, waiting for that life I thought I would have. In my head, I was always one step away. In junior high, I was biding my time until I could become the college version of myself. In college, the post-college 'adult' person was always looming in front of me, smarter, stronger, more organized. Anything further sounds like a nightmare. For twenty years, literally, I've waited to become da more desirable version of myself thinking that's when life will really, at last, begin.

And through all that waiting, here I am. Sure, I've kept myself busy with da insignificant. Doing what is required of me and doing things to re-assure myself that I'm alive and making some use out of the time I have. But it just felt like Time passing day by day and I am still here, waiting, for life to start.

I guess I am slow-thinking and full of made-up interior rules that act as brakes on my desires. What horrifies me most is da idea of being useless: well-educated, brilliantly promising, and fading out into an indifferent middle age. Acting up and going hard once in a while are all within measured, well-mannered frivolity. Calling me a 'spoilt brat' and moping on it ain't gonna make me change. Everyone tells you what to do and what's good for you its as if they don't want you to find your own answers, they want you to believe theirs. So here's to raising glasses for bottled tradition and surrendered thoughts- and let that be da end of it.

How many years can some people exist before they're allowed to be free? How many times can someone turn his head, pretending he couldn't see that somethings are meant to be?

up there, yonder night sky,

is a fairy's house hid high;

were your eyes

to find its prize,

you'd have a star to wish on by