Square One.

I want to scream.
I can't. It is Saturday morning, people are sleeping.
Three years. Three years of grueling education.  What is there to show for it?
Certainly nothing of substance.  A piece of paper, cords, sashes, and a stupid trophy to hang a medal on.
What does it even matter? No.One.Cares.
No one cares about the perfect grades, perfect attendance, or the perfect record. 
I'm at square one.
College has served me no purpose.
The only thing I've learned is how to complain on a blog.

If I could turn this text into speech, turn this bitterness into laughter, my life would be where I've wanted it to be. But I haven't.


Maybe I will.

Anticipatingly: An adverb, not a real word.

No matter how hard I anticipatingly cringe, the shatter pierces just as deep.

Therein lies my question:
                                
                      Live in fear of loss or love in life of presence?

Preparedness strips of freedom, impulsion weakens defenses.
I can never find happiness in a medium, only in a combination of their extreme:

Frozen ice cream melted on a hot fudge brownie.
Wearing a warm fuzzy blanket in front of a fan blowing cyclones.
Thinking while sleeping.

Living in fear prevents heartache,

as well as freedom.