reminder that you can only be seventeen going on eighteen once in a lifetime
count-down: one hour & fourty-eight minutes
this feels so queer. somehow the word "eighteen" when put into context instills a kind of nebulous fear that is mingled with exhilaration - an expectancy of the unexpected,
as if the coming of age forces me to face the unknown - to look into the mouth of an unexplored cave that may hold treasure (& danger).
my dreams are in my backpack - i carry them upon my shoulders.
count-down: one hour & fourty-three minutes
i am armored. let's do this thing named "future".
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