So I just got around to reading The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath. It's pullin' for number one in my favorites category. Throughout the book I was making myself a bit nervous, though, because at times I could relate to her a little too closely. This only frightened me because she ends up in an asylum for attempting suicide several times. No biggie.

But she doesn't feel anything, and when I can't feel anything, I make changes so that I will. Because I'm scared I'll end up like she did if I don't. That's our comforting difference.

Lately I've been pondering how each point/portion/thing in our life is a season that will come to a close. Well, it produced comfort and also an untraceable worry.. I was scared of something. Maybe that I shouldn't try so hard to evoke so much feeling out of life. I'm not too sure why that arose, but I started rethinking everything that I stood for, and after I concluded page 244 of that novel, I made my decision.

I will continue to siphon every last ounce of feeling that I can out of this life. Out of all of my seasons that will come and go. Out of all the people that will pass through, or stay for a while. I will feel the sadness, the melancholy, the nostalgia, the happiness, the pure joy, the rush, and the peaceful silence.

I will embrace everything. And when I let go, I will take the lessons and the memories with me.

I will be rich and full and alive.

This post is nothing new. It's simply my declaration to my future and my official announcement that I'm going to put my big, sentimental heart to good use in this world.