three: must it come down to lyrics?

Time has become so unfamiliar to me. I feel removed from the past two weeks and I think it comes down to the sole fact that I have forgotten about minutes, and hours, and all that precedes them. It seems as though when you are aware of the amount of time you have you are able to define that time by what you did. It also works in the opposite affect; you tend to remember some "time" if you have something to attach to it. We age everyday, all day long, but when we have a birthday we somehow feel etched a little bit more, somehow making us feel older (presumably, but it is possible to feel younger I imagine). We are actively living everday of every year but we tend to only reflect upon the past one and the one to come at the strike of an insignificant hand on face. I guess the point of the above rambling is that my birthday is coming up and I can't help but be sucked into evaluating my life, my person, my goals, so on, and so forth.

A year ago, on my birthday, I was snuggled up between white poka-dotted, green sheets content to never move from the one I loved. Ignoring any existance of an endless numbered amount of moments that may or may not happen. I was escorted by a nicely dressed and sturdy arm down the schoolhouse stairs into a glowing room filled with friendly faces and smelling of something delicious. I can remember those moments so well and it makes it all the more unbelievable that it has already been a year since that time. Since that time I have been weathered by a new year and it is an incredible thing to think about how much can happen in a year. It makes one anxious and uneasy. I am tired thinking about all of the living I have done, which is overwhelming within itself because I still have so much more to do. Last night I was left snuggled between newly colored and textured sheets surrounded by walls of windows seperating me from the below freezing degree weather outside. I was listening too the new rodent (who I assume is a rat that defeated the mouse that was there before.... his little claws just have a new and heavier weight to them against the metal rafters) crawl overhead. I was thinking about all of the things that I wish I could make myself feel differently and of all of the things I wished I had never done. Then I got over it because that is what time is for; it exists so that we may exist and within that existance we may choose to do and change whatever we want.

In contrast, I am still the same old me. I am still figuring out what I am doing before/as/after I do it. I am still letting the idea of a good story get the best of me. Maybe I feel so ancient in these days because I have so many stories but I do not think that I will have truly aged until I stop living to unvail and live out the perfect story. In the past few months I have played out a very amusing story. It has been told before and the only reason it is being told again is because I saw the story before hand and thought I might give it a shot. Now that I am further into it and see all of the possibilities that may unfold I am admitting to the thing I should have or very well might have known before I started to live it; that I don't want to be the girl in that story. It is so discouraging and freeing at the same time to be so in control of who you are and the parts that you choose to play. I made a great mistress but I know that one day I will make an even better love. Although, I am convinced that I could be happy with anyone, I don't think that gives me the right to choose who, when, and where.

As a footnote, I am uncontrolably affected by songs and their stupid melodies and lyrics. I can choose to hate a song just as I can choose to love it for the strangest of reasons.