Haven't written one of these in AGES.

A lot has changed. Nothing has changed. Somewhere in between, there is an alteration, something pricked, something replaced, something healed, something new made out of old fabric.

College is coming. It scares me, growing older. I'm almost 17. So young, but so old. I'm going to buy freedom. I'm trying to make things work.

I grew out my hair. I cut my hair. It's a little too short for my liking, but heck, I'll just grow it out again. I'm saving up for a new camera. For better work. Hopefully I can get some kind of scholarship for my photography thus far. I painted my room. My grandmother thinks that it is unholy. She wants me to paint it over.. I want to fill it in with color.

Things have never run so smooth for such a period of time. I wonder if it's going to just jump off the page, spiral into an ink jar, and ruin the white, pure paper with blotches all over. I'm not sure, but I'm hoping this pen can stay intact.

I'm getting lazy. I want to work again, but I don't. Ahah.

I'm running out of things to say. Nobody even reads this.. I think. Maybe, I have absolutely no clue.

Speak for yourself.

We will all grow older, but with you here I die slower.