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| A Journal Entry From A Month Ago: |
September 31st, 11:04pm. The Mac glows in my darkened bedroom and I hear only muffled sounds – small swells of sound from the next room as Markus watches a late-night Disney movie with friends, Natalye re-positioning underneath the blanket into the shape of a question mark, the cuckoo clock ticking, ticking, ticking.
I turned in my mid-term essay tonight.
I don’t know if it was ready, but I was ready.
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| It’s hard to change what’s changing you. It’s hard to know when you’re finished with something so big, so important. There are always edits to make. There are always sentences to fix. There are a million ways to do better. |
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At some point, I suppose you just have to accept that it’s fine. That it’s better than fine – that it’s good, even. That it will never be perfect, and wrinkling your brow over setbacks/timelines/commas/colons will do nothing but delay the degree you wanted to get in the first place.
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