~April 6th, 2017~

Dear Yesterday,

Right now the panic is setting in to your body like the third wave of infection we didn't write poetry about. And let me tell you, the anxiety and stress with everything will subside throughout the flight.

Not a normal feeling of excitement or anything , but you feel the joy eventually. But for now, take my advice and relax a bit. Don't worry too much about what will happen once you get there.

Leave life in it's upside-down, unpredictable state. Give up some control.

I mean, I've forgotten what it's like to be above clouds. It seems so close to high haven and yet...

Still a long drop down.

And sure, I'm not really scared of falling from here. Just my thanatophobic tendencies. But in all honesty, I think I'm gonna be more scared of the people on this trip then the actual trip.

Only because of things like first impressions and my personal friend group staying together.

I can only hope that nothing goes wrong for us. And honestly, probably nothing will.

Optimism right?

~April 12th, 2017~

Some time between 8:00pm and 9:00pm in the street of Paris...

Imagine walking down the street with the best strawberry yogurt ice cream in the world. Seeing the street of starving artists in all different forms, like that one scene from a movie you saw years ago.

Seeing freehand artists drawing the faces of complete strangers, and the suddenly hearing music.

Hearing a complete strangers singing over classical guitar and not knowing if they were singing in english of french.

But I don't really care. Music has been and always will be a universal language.

So what more can you do about a starving artist?

Well there's  only so much you can do for a guy playing classical guitar in the middle of Paris.

So about 3 songs and €10 later, this artist's voice rings through the empty street. And somehow I become the starving artist, playing this guitar that doesn't belong to me.

And yet I play out like nobody is listening in.

Applause comes... and it goes...

I played one song to look up, and one song from here. All the while feeling the air pass through this street. The only thing left to do was pick up a name and a sappy french poem.

I shake his hand and come away from the street with a major music high. (Pun intended)

And I wasn't the only one on Cloud 9, the feeling shared by yet another music nerd.

And as we roam the streets of Paris singing the same lyrics from "La La Land", we feel complete for now.

And in  that moment...

I lived.

And there's nothing more I can really say other than...

How did we get here?

I'm picking up everything on the floor and dividing it up into piles.

Things to throw away.

Things to recycle.

Things that don't belong to me.

Things to preserve.

Things to hang up on my wall.

Things to reconsider how much I want them.

Things to stare at.

Things....

Things I don't want anymore.

Things that pain me to get rid of but I have to.

And I look at all the dust piling up around my room and I wonder how long it's been since I did something like this.

And yet... I still have to much work to do.

...That you don't hate me for what I wrote.

I have no other way.
I'm stuck here counting days.

What happened to me?

When you are working on that really important history project, before you can even begin, there is always that one person who asks: "So how much is this worth? How much will this count towards our mark?"

Ugh. Welcome to the Bauer state of mind everybody!

All that matters in life is how successful you are. And as long as your average is a constant 100%, you do not need to worry about anything else.

What a life huh?

These people are the perfect people for office job life. Nothing but numbers, no life, no soul.

Nothing else matters to them.

And singling these people out in high school is the saddest thing, and the most hilarious thing I've done.

Because these people brag at 100% and cry at 99%.

Wait, what?!

How can you not be satisfied with anything less than overdoing it?

I mean, you go on and live your life.

But I'll stay here with a more than satisfactory 85%.

I can work with that.

There's a guy I know who once used an entire 2nd period class to draw out his entire family line on the white board.

He explains in great detail the divorces, the half siblings, the brothers he truly cares for. And you forget that somewhere in this family tree, he exists.

And he talks....and talks....

It gets to a point where you forget he's monologing.

He stops talking about and slowly begins talking about his view on love and relationships. I forget that he comes from a somewhat messed up family.

I mean, I'm still optimistic about love. So much so that I forget that people don't see the world the way I do.

And he is... not as optimistic about love.

Or rather, he just doesn't see love as an opportunity worth chasing. He explains it as, "I can develop feelings for someone, but I don't act on them because I don't see the point."

Or something like that...

And well, I can't think like that.

So I'll leave this mindset here. I guess it's something worth talking about. I guess...