12:35 am.

Tomorrow is a Sunday. Sometimes I think of how smart I used to think I was about most things. How I felt oppressed by my parents, and thought they were so petty and restricting. I don't really feel that way anymore. That's a relief. And I can't hardly imagine what made me that way. Although I regret it, I miss it. There is this pleasantly awkward emotion that comes with the contemplation of those times. It reminds me of smoke. Life was so painful then, but that strange emotion that I get when I think of those times makes me want to go back there. I want to steal my first cigarette from my dad, I want to smoke weed for the first time, and listen to Lateralus for the first time, and talk to Josh for the first time again. Although I have my moments, I feel too comfortable in life. I feel like I have explored all that is thrilling and good and just generally fun. I haven't forgot to dream, but it seems like I have used up all the exciting rights of passage that came with high school. It makes me sad. Life seems so empty and monotonous now. Then I think of those painfully wonderful times I had, and I feel sorry that I didn't enjoy them more. I suppose there is a way out of this vicious cycle. I should love every moment, period. If I concentrate too hard on then, then I won't remember to love now. And the cycle will continue yet again. That will be my resolution. Let's hope it doesn't fade.

12:45 am.