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The purpose of my life is the sandwich I'm about to enjoy. I wish I could make a better attempt at articulating the current anxieties I have for the next segment of my life. I feel equal parts terror and fascination (two sides of the same coin?) and I believe in the possibility of something excellent, and something that I could be proud of. I feel like escaping again. I two or three weeks of class left, and then finals. I have to finish (finish for real) my thesis. But then I'm basically done. I don't know exactly when it'll happen, but I need to move from RI, after spending 21 years in various parts of it. I think it's likely that that will happen when I matriculate somewhere a year from this coming fall (say, 18 months from now.)
I'm sick of me.