written on train - 06/01/2007

The year is 2007 and I am 22. To me the year 2007 seems futuristic - conjuring up images of spaceships and gleaming metallic objects. I'm going through a strange transitional phase - rediscovering after a few years of fitting in that I am *different*, rediscovering those strange traits that set me apart from everyone else, those symptoms that when put together point straight to my past, a past I'm not really rewilling to visit, to untagle the events and emotions that make me the person I am today. I am luckier than some with my condition - I have a family that loves best it can. I am at the moment travelling, shedding dependence as the train moves north, changing skins, switching from child of loving parents to independent student carving out a future. The future. Something I find hard to comprehend, my frustrating indecisions are what lead me back to my past. The future spreads before me, wild, unpredictable and ungraspable, so broad it makes me panic. There are too many choices to make, too many places I could find myself.

I'm not sure what I want, scared that choosing a path will lead to eventual disappointment.