Thoughts when leaving Alaska

I often wonder what it is about improvising that scared me so much, although I suppose the answer is all too obvious. A lack of control, fear of the [un]expected, wonder of ultimate potential - all the way-too-ordinary aspects of myself that make me mediocre.

But, maybe I'm beginning to be okay with that mediocrity.

....

I've always found older people so much more interesting than people my own age. All of a sudden though, I enjoy people years younger; I appreciate the earnestness and genuine happiness or excitement. I wonder if that signifies my own maturity or if it's simply that I'm finally happy.

....

And then... then sometimes I remember and the pain is so fucking intense. I push him away because I can't bear anything else. I don't even remember who he really is (only the harshness of who I've made him), and I wonder why he still calls. Does he actually have accurate feelings of what we were? Is that even possible?

....

I'm in present tense again, and everything is great; I have the beginnings of a future I adore. I wonder about age and some kind of ultimate love capacity, but really - there is nothing to inspire complaint. I might sometimes wish I was with someone my own age, but that's simply because I'm impatient, and that's not really fair at all.

So for now, I just sit and relax and am content that things are going amazingly well. There is no need for the ceremonial freak-out; after-all, we're still counting months... and to be honest, it has been a fairy tale thus far.