oh.

So here I am reading The Shoebox Project at 1:45 on a friday night and suddenly I think. Oh. I am 17-almost-18 years old. This is my senior fucking year of high school and then what. I don't know. I really don't. In less then three month's I'll be 18. It's a strangely sobering thought that makes me want to be anything but sober.
I need to buy some boots. I need a haircut. I need today's Teefury shirt. I need a plan and a new notebook and some consonants and I need to learn how to annunciate and I need some friends real friends and I need want need to talk to my brother Kody. It seems completely irrational that he is only about 1 and 1/2 years older then me and he's living in a completely different country, 10 hours in the future and had aged so much in the span of the year since he's left and oh gosh I miss him I miss him and I don't want to grow up and I never have but you can't stop it so why even try. Holy shit. I don't want to go to college. I just got out of 12 years of schooling. Isn't that enough? I want to learn and go on adventures. I've not told anybody this. But basically- my dream career is Indiana Jones-ing. If that makes any sense. God. I don't know. Shit, I don't want to do something like the same thing every day, monotony and boring and office work and supervisors and stuff. I want. Explosions and adventure and mystery and romance and Sherlock Holmes-ing and MacGyver-ing and Justice League-ing.
The Dr. Martens flash site is almost giving me a seizure. Fuck I need some BOOTS like some stomping around, here the fuck I am boots. My footwear needs to be asserting. I need combat boots.
I want to cut my own hair. Like now. But not now. Lamely I need to look presentable for work. As soon as I'm done with all that nonsense I am taking a pair of scissors to my hair with a rough idea of what I want and a daring fearlessness.