I've been staring at any empty word document for nearly half an hour.
I want to write something. I need to write something. But I can't. I can't think. I can't write. I can't decide what I want to talk about. What I want to share.
So instead I'll just ramble, as that usually gets me somewhere.
A majority of my friends don't know what they want to be. Where they want to go to college. What careers they want to pursue. What classes they want to take next year. Hell. They can't even figure out what they want to wear tomorrow without having a thirty minute debate between themselves and their closet.
I'm fairly fortunate. I know what I'm going to do. I know where I want to go. I've got my entire imaginary life planned out, overseeing every detail as I try to fall asleep. I've got so much I want to do and see and taste and live, that I want to stay this young forever. It's a paradox really. When you're young you've got what seems like an endless span of time ahead of you where you can accomplish the endless amount of things you want to do. It's a wonderful feeling really. It's like you see something you want to do and the youth inside of you knows that you've got plenty of time to do it.
But then you want to get older. You want to grow so you can do these things, but then you learn of new places to go, new adventures to explore, and you realize that your time is coming to a close.
That's what I like about being young. You feel like you've got time.
And time is a fabulous thing.