Shakespeare vs. My Angst

Oh twelfth night. How I loath thee
with thy ol' speak and confuse'd ideas
it may sound like lillies of the moonshine
but it maketh no sense to me
And require'd thy may be
but Sparknotes alone will save me
from failing APENG

I spend so much more time whining about Twelfth Night than actually reading it. I think my subconscious thinks if I can put off reading it, I can also put off the start of school. heh heh.

I've had more bad dreams recently. And conversely, more good dreams, interspersed. I suppose I'm just dreaming a lot more.

Summer has been kind to me though, bad dreams aside. I've worked, played, and done anything and everything I could have hoped for, still with possibilities in the days remaining. I'm happier than I can claim having been all the past year. I have to stop some moments and wonder if maybe this is as good as I'll ever have it. Maybe I'm not giving enough of myself to some of the moments I'm having. 100% doesn't seem like enough. I just find myself constantly in awe of how incredible life can be to you with the right attitude. I'm so immersed and in love with the newness of life, knowledge, experience, people, personality, all the possibilities. I'm trying on optimism, for once. They say the happiest people are rarely those who know the most. If it's all in my head anyway, there's no reason I can't be the happiest person that ever lived, right?

It's something I can only take one day at a time, but I'm just soaking up the universe as much as I can, while I still can appreciate how wonderful it is to be alive and human.

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