It's a strange thing to think that I've been waiting all this time for summer. I've been waiting and passively passing time until the fifteenth of May so that I could strip and run open-armed into the ocean under the scathing sunlight. I've been waiting for months and I've just another before I look back and realize that I'll only have two more weeks of my first year of college and I've done nothing progressive except take a few classes and hardly pass with grades that would get me no job and no accolade.
I've been waiting all this time for something I think will be great, but these months have been great and where was I to enjoy them but in a constant mental state of anticipation for the next best, unobtainable thing.
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