chapters.

Every life is broken up by defining chapters or certain lengths of time that imprint
experience on our foreheads.
This is where I am, at the end of a chapter. Most would say that breaking up a
life into chapters is purposeless because then the life, in its
entirety, means nothing. That thinking only of one scene without
consideration of the rest leads to degradation of plot. I, however, beg to differ. My life has moved too fast to be taken in all at once.I break it up to find meaning.
Now, here I stand, in transition. New sights, sounds, voices, my senses elated. I
can truly say that this chapter held its high moments, more than any of the previous. But balance in this world must be maintained, and so I must also say that this chapter held the lowest moments as well.
Regret exists, I cannot deny. Yet in my heart I know that each memory I have will bring me confidence in some form. Experience has to come from somewhere.
As I write this, I cannot even think clearly. Recalling each time I've felt joy, true passion, true fear, true anger, is like throwing stones into a small pond and counting the ripples.
In the end, they blur together. But recalling the feeling is much easier. Certain moments where those feelings peak. The blissful peace I felt driving with a friend down the highway at sunset. The windows rolled down. Fresh air never felt so smooth and free. Feelings and sensations. Those matter, those moments are what really count in the end.
I have ended this chapter, yes, I have ended it. It is time to move on to the
next page. I do not know what will be written in times to come, but by
ending this chapter I am sure to find out.