I’m embarking on a new chapter in my life, a new frontier that intimidates me. See, the next few pages of my life story are mostly out of my control, and I don’t know how they’ll be written. Will the climax that has been building for the last few years be resolved in the way I’ve hoped for so long or will I have to move along into an unknown, if more realistic, alternative? I suppose I’ll find out soon enough—knowing that resolution is on the way is almost bittersweet in a manner I can’t quite explain. In my head, a soundtrack of songs of wanting play on and on.
I suppose the romance element of a story is indeed only part, but it’s funny how it can be so integral to everything else. It’s the potential merging of two stories in a crossover that is ever so unpredictable. It’s two adventures becoming one, complicating the character development, enriching the plot, and doubling the drama. It’s good, but it’s heavy and not for the faint of heart.
So, as the plot unfurls, the setting alters a bit too—I’m a couple months into my new apartment, once again living with my roommate of the past two years. My room is clean for the first time all summer. I can’t say the same for my heart.
Two more years of graduate school—I’m going to be 25, nearly 26 by the time I’m done with my Master’s degree; I can’t wait that long to start my life—life begins here and now.