at first, i was planning to document everything that i did starting the end of term to the beginning of the next term, which isn't even officially here yet for me, and note down every single thought and feeling that was worth noting.
i wanted to write down all the ups and downs that occurred, ppl that were sad, ppl that were happy. things that ached my heart, warmed my heart. ppl i missed, ppl that didn't miss me. the battles to fight, the pains of struggle. conversations worth remembering, efforts worth noting, failures worth forgetting. i wrote out everyone's names, so it would have been open to see. a bit of thought and sleuthing, and secrets of my heart could have been figured. it took hours.
and i wrote it. i got to aug 20. it was pages long, and i already had plans to section it all off by week. then i stopped myself.
what am i doing? everything laid out like a journal, telling the world how i spent my time, testing myself to see whether time was used best. was it? i'm scared that the answer will be no. that the goals i made for these weeks were not accomplished. that you failed to have the best two week toronto vacation you could have.
so i stop. wondering the worth of sharing to the world every tidbit of thought of mine, the worth of telling of every person that i thought about, talked with, didn't talk with. the little pearls of my intricate observations, long-winded yet.. intricate. i fear that after all this, that i learn nothing, that nothing will come out of it all, that i just walk a full circle, back to where i started...
(vacation. a foreign thought, yet all hell breaks loose at its first opportunity. i find my body asking: why is the best not being offered to me? why am i not in constant enjoyment? after such a long term of work, why should i do anything even resembling work right now?
so it happens that way, and i am practically powerless to stop it)
