There was a package from college when I got home today. Not so much a package, really. More like a bunch of papers and some booklets. About housing. I knew what it was as soon as my grandmother told me I had some mail from there. But when I opened it and leafed through, it hit me. This is real now. It's becoming more and more real, daily, weekly, monthly. But this just upped it a couple notches. I have to decide where I want to live next year. When you get into college early decision, it's not so glaringly real. I mean, you're aware you're going, but it's far off, so you just package up that knowledge and tuck it away somewhere, like a present you buy for someone months in advance. But then when they start talking about their birthday, you remember "oh yeah, that wasn't just an idea; it wasn't just a dream." And you have to make decisions. Granted, what type of wrapping paper you use, or whether you use a bag and tissue paper instead are a lot less crucial than where you'll live for at least nine months.

I've always contended that time is my enemy, although I know it can also act as my friend in matters of healing, both physically and emotionally, and I still believe it.

So, now I have a very real, very quickly-approaching future that I'm not prepared (or not willing) to greet just yet. Which is good, because I don't have to just yet. I need to keep that in my mind. If I can mentally postpone the future just a little longer...