What's the point of ceaselessly complaining of a condition of things which is indeed grievous, but which is largely of our own creation??
We demand high places without qualifying ourselves to hold high place; we rebel at a not uncommon attitude of contempt or of contemptuous toleration on the part of the public, but do not purge ourselves of the elements which excite that contempt; we accuse the world of indifference toward our work, but do little to render that work of such quality as to forbid indifference.
we go to classes ..we read and absorb and are comprehensively tested on heavy amounts of various materials. we sleep very little. we bury ourselves in books. we become attached to close friends. we fucking lean toomuch.
we think often of the past then want to go back. we know we fucking can't.
some have seperate lives,families,backgrounds and pasts. we live totally different from what we planned to. we are frustrated ,sometimes want to give up...but we never stop trying.
we disregard health. we eat awful foods. some kill themselves with various types of smoke. someone is always sick. someone is always complaining.
we are forced to think about the future. we are scared and fucking confused.we reach out for things yet we don't find them.we try to sort out our minds, which are filled with studies,worries,problems,emotions,and powerful feelings.
we wander the halls looking for happiness.we hurt alot.we keep going though, because above all else, we never stop learning,growing,changing and most imporatnt dreaming.
all we can do is be thankful we have something to hold unto, like dreams and each other.