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I'm making a really bad decision in deciding to blow off my Chem homework and writing instead, but it's not like she's going to collect it anyways. It's ok. I'll just be a little more lost than usual tomorrow.

I had a nice little blog post all planned out, about how I know spring is here-- because of the bouquet of daffodils in my room (which has now been reduced to a single wilting flower struggling to hold on to life) and the Dodgers starting spring training and all that-- but it just doesn't seem important at all. That being said, I don't think I really know what's important.

You have the basics: good grades, good college, staying out of trouble, being yourself and finding your place in the world are all important. But are they the most important things to me? Because if they're not, then they dont' matter at all. Ok, so grades are a priority, but they're not just for getting in to college. They're for giving me an excuse to take off to Boston for four years and form some opinions on things other than whether or not Heidi Montag should have plastic surgery. I feel like a robot programmed to tell people exactly what they want to hear.

If I didn't have to worry about a single other person or deal with their opinion of what I should do, I'd live right smack in the middle of Boston and read books all morning. In the afternoon I'd walk all over the city, looking for things to write about and stopping for lunch in some random little restaurant where I could sit outside and listen to life go by for a while. And at night, well, there's no telling what I could do. All I know is that in this idealistic little world, my cell phone would be in more pieces than a broken heart. No one to check in with when I leave one place for another, no one to meet up with at eight o'clock sharp. I would wear a yellow dress in the snow.

The few people who read this understand this kind of madness-- this mess of tangled up feelings and stresses that tie you to a page and won't let you go until you've turned it all into words. Little black marks on a screen that tell your little blue world what you need to say.

Maybe I'll end up like one of those people who goes crazy in college because they're faced with almost too much independence after living such a sheltered life. Maybe I've got it better than I think right now and am just being a whiny brat. Maybe I'm delusional.

Maybe those delusions are all I really have right now.