september 1

this is what i'm thinking right now:
it is september first and i have never been this old in my life before. this is my last week of living at home and somehow it feels less significant than i thought it would. life is just as good and bad and great as always. i still feel annoyed and tired on occasion, like always. i still feel the same spectrum of good and bad feelings... in dreams i always leave the mundane feelings out. when i dreamed about moving out as a little girl it was always a effortless, triumphant exit, and everything i owned fit into two classic samsonites. i pack when no one is home because it seems vaguely sad and sitcom-like when my parents are around. i wish i could find that black sweatshirt with the bleach stains... once i drove an hour to get it back when i left it in rockford. somehow it disappeared and i didn't notice until now. i ride my bicycle a lot around the back roads. i won't say where because it is a secret; it is so pretty here in the late summer and i don't want tourists. i think that no matter how far away i move, i will always end up back in the country in the end. when i am old, i will find a white house with a wraparound porch near a road where no one ever drives. and it will always be dim and quiet in the living room, and full of books. that's one way i could see myself living someday. but there are lots of others.