resumen Hand firmly grasped inside the wet palm, I begin to feel that familiar ache deep in my belly. This is no longer some idea or some orb floating in the air identified only by my thoughts of ambition; this is real and its here. Less of a plan and more of an action, the future is now and it frightens me.

What a perfect life though right? Everything is so managable until it's really far away or really in your face. A nice, arms length away would be very nice thank you.

Not much to say...only a mind full of pictures and questions and bad white wine. Mom is singing on the phone and I wonder how much I will turn out to be like her. When I say turn out, how old am I thinking in my mind? When am I done maturing like a ripening fruit where I will look at my self and say "I have arrived"? I don't even believe my grandparents are there yet. I hope it never comes.  ¶ 9:28 PM