I'm starting this blog with the faint sound of I-405 in my left ear and the bathroom clock echoing in my right ear. This is my new life. The silence of Bothell is unnerving. My apartment is located on the B-E highway which is never without traffic, but there aren't people driving the cars. The people around here have lost their youthfulness and drive that I was accustomed to in college. I was surrounded by emotions, passion, and dreams. Now, I am immersed in the daily grind, 'another day another dollar', and complaints of how far away the weekend is. I am guilty of participating in the dull conversations about weather ruining weekend plans, garden pests and their natural remedies, and the daily lunch specials.
I have been caught up in all of the changes in my life that I am only now noticing how incredibly boring my 21-year-old life has become in just a matter of months.
When I was up in Bellingham last weekend I spent it harboring that sick feeling you get when you want to cry but it is a wildly inappropriate situation. I am not returning to Western this fall, meaning I will not be returning to the place that I have learned so much of how to live, learn, and love. Cliche as it may sound, a part of me is dying. It may already be dead but I'm not ready to bury it.
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