The Very First Day For the Rest of My Life

I can't even tell what has gotten into me. A little bit of transition, maybe a little too fast switch position between adult to child, angel to sinner. I am feeling utterly irrepressibly hindered at the moment, because from this moment on it seems that responsibility trumps youthful vigor and I have transposed into a path that unless I crawl extra hard to veer, will inevitably lead me to unhappiness.

It all started not this morning, but this night, and I recall it backwards, because my mind has warped backwards into a mist of minted garnished smoke that inhaled causes a calm chaos. It was good, for a second, and now my head is still reeling.

He had taught me once on top of a dark laundry room the meaning of lust. From then I associated lust with love, and because God told me Lust in Sin, and Sin is death, then love is death, and I could not, would not. I am the anti-Carey Bradshaw.

She is a writer of something I dream of expressing. She lives as I want to live, and she embodies the goal set at my arms reach but too afraid to go any further.

I walked up the stairs today, one floor into a regular room of surfer dudes, who ignored our mere presence. I stood there with a sidekick and watched him close the door. Out came minted death, money exchanged for green in Saran Wrap.

It would be my first and last venture with sin, for like Peter Pan I had to grow up. The wrap will lay always hidden if I am able to escape the path I have chosen for myself- a path of escapism and journalism. A life of slavery and bondage for another type of minted paper. I am now responsible to society, not myself, nor anyone else.

Today I started responsibility whereas the end of my path will lead to a cliff of regrets.

This is how I feel now as I began my new life of literal labor that the receipt of my degree has guaranteed.

-D