In so many ways I despise the disintegration of the language I’ve spoken for years; to read and to witness the mellifluous orchestra that was once a daily, almost routine exchange truly makes one pine for a return to the old ways of speech. The drab slur that whirls about me every second of every day never satisfies the need to express oneself, and I doubt it ever will. But, just like everything else that surrounds us, be it laudable or despicable, the dreadful vernacular that dribbles out of the mouth of almost every American does serve a purpose. It creates, you see, a simple and easy way to sieve through those who hear and target only those who are able to listen. Whenever I’m bursting with whatever sentiment that certainly is not a tidbit of information suitable for an audience composed of certain, matronly ears, I simply remember the darling ways of those who came before, and I’m excellent.

Today was fabulous for many reasons, all of which can be traced back to one particular reason, I suppose. Yes, I took my physics final and finished up my studio project in but a matter of hours, but it was spectacular because, well, the sky welcomed me a bit differently today. Even rough gravel intrigued me as opposed to dampening me; every curve was a bit softer and every jagged line a little bit less severe. My jovial frame of mind perfected the weather, the people I passed by and talked to, and even the exams were cheery in their own, firm way. Alas, it endures, and even this moment I feel as if I could yawn and find myself swept away by the supple wind. A tired but absolute grin rises to my face, and the world is a song once again.

Of course I’ll come back to this with that familiar salty savor on my lips, freshly falling from predictable but sincere angst, and I’ll curse myself for my silly foolishness. I see that moment hanging on the horizon, I do. But I can’t honestly say that it concerns me. Let the wind take me, let the rivers have me; I’d grin all the same to float down a tributary such as the one I’m bound to find right now.

Daddy comes in seven hours, and I can’t wait to see him again. I think I’ll stay up and clean, or perhaps not. It matters very little, I suppose. Goodnight my lovelies, and I hope you cherish the zeniths like I do. The depths are waiting, and, as sure as anything on this temptress of an earth, they will greet me soon like they always do.