9:33 PM

I have 27 minutes until my proposed bedtime goal for this week. It's funny how time sneaks up on you, isn't it? I'm almost into my second semester of senior year and consequently the last semester of my high school career. Around me is the clutter of nearly 18 years of existence--it will truly be 18 a month from tomorrow. That's crazy, isn't it? To think, this is only the beginning. We think it's an end--an end to high school, and end to familiarity and comfort in our parents' home, a slow end to our financial dependence on our parents (for some, maybe for others that's over and done in an instant); the point is, it always feels like an end. It's only the beginning. On average we have about 60.4 more years; we've only lived about a quarter of our lives. I've only lived about a quarter of my life. Yet I think it's an end. Is there ever an end? The world doesn't end (there is no edge), you know.