Dear Sweet notepad, take a seat. You're gonna want a drink when all of this is done. Anxious, impatient, under utilized and over analysed, my mind is ahead of me. Ahead of you. Ahead of it's time. It's time. quarter-life, done. Turning over and over in my new leaf, trying to stretch it out. Soon it's the second quarter life. And in a second, i'm at quarter resistance again. (Here's where you'll want to pay attention, it gets tricky. My tricks, that is, not the story.) The good times, well they come and go just like any other moment on this TV show. Cant seem to flip chanels. Everyone stare at me, i'm just menial. Trash day, hayday, mayday i'm going down again. Simplicity? what is that? Blending in with the crowd? Is that some new slang? "Success". I've no idea what it means. Great things, yeah, like i'll ever be able to handle them. Only one thing that sustained me through school to this point, one hope, my only true religion. And it seemed to pass me by so fast. Not you though. Not you. You'll need to fill me in on that one day. When we're drunk and lying on your floor. Saying nothing, wanting more. Learning faith isnt all it's cracked up to be, .Steve