standing up again.

A night at the Academy of Sciences, a day in the car, a walk by the water, a few puffs of a cigarette.

Days pile up beautifully, gracefully, like individual ripples of water as they stretch out and embrace one another.

My last quarter of my undergraduate education. I try to reassure myself that this is only the beginning. Of course, I know that is true. I know that Rebecca asked me to move to San Francisco with her last night. I know that is entirely possible. I think of bars and co-ops and music and quiet evenings with nothing but cold air by my side. It will have to come after Ireland, but it will come eventually.

From my window, pieces of light tap me on the shoulder. They wake me up. I wanted to come back here. My last quarter, and I finally wanted to come back. It's freeing and jarring and very open and I can already feel a vague nostalgia wrapping its arms around me.

I do not know how to end my random series of thoughts. I could continue with the list of amazing things we have planned for the next ten weeks, my last ten weeks in this empty, crowded city. But I will not. I have always preferred mystery. I always side with the unknown.