"What we call the beginning is often the end And to make and end is to make a beginning. " -T.S. Eliot

Just what have I begun? And why am I not sad the way things have ended? I'm almost 27, almost twenty seven and I still haven't a clue... but I do know this: try as I might, I can't shake the feeling that its all going to be alright. I can't quite quench the thirst for life. I've tried and I've tried, drank and drown. I've failed in every endeavor and yet I somehow made it through: I am an adult.

Nothing is dead inside. I still have faith. I'm even working on wisdom. I feel calm. I'm not angry anymore. I am not even angry.

So this is adulthood? In one year I will be a teacher and off I'll go with my career. One full year, but I think I'm already there. Something about failing and failing and finally succeeding... something about perseverance. Shit, I don't know. I don't even know what I am trying to say, except to say that everything is alright, has been for a while, and will continue to be.

Dare I say I have peace of mind?