Every time I think of the future right now I get melancholy, because I don’t know what it will look like, even though I have a definite idea of what I want it to look like. It’s a drag, because thinking about the future is all I’m doing this morning. I have to go to class in a moment… I don’t know whether it will be nice or whether it will really suck to get out of my little I-House room today. Sometimes this place has been like a womb.
Last night at like 3.00 in the morning I was realizing that I have to be out of here (papers done, shit shipped to storage, everything packed, on the train for a plane for my final exit from Chicago) in four weeks. The girlfriend basically leaves in three. I have to have my thesis paperwork finalized in two.
Of all the feelings in the world, bittersweet is the one I am least well able to survive. Individually, they are no problem; bitter I excel at, and sweet I can do reasonably well, albeit with a few cracks here and there. But bittersweet, I think, is the reason for every drop I’ve ever drank.