A year is very long and very fast. It dashes by, hours dripping like honey, weeks sloshing as rapids. It's hard to not be swept up by the breathless days, head down and working, eyes ever hopefully leering at the clock.
It seemed like a struggle, a foe-less war. All a clever, dangerous game of passion and responsibility. But, enough of that. School comes, bearing down as an unavoidable future. I can hate it, I can wriggle in discomfort from minute to minute of studying, but it's still going to be there, and I'll deal with it then.
I think I'm going to try and do more with this. I love to write, have innumerable pages floating around in my room and even more ideas collecting inside my head. They're pent up, though, and I need my thousand hours of practice, so, here we go. Time to learn.