The best years of your life

I was talking to a friend a few minutes ago about university and life as a college student. Complaining about the amount of workload we have (and how we procrastinate every single day) and how we envy high school students and how easy it all was just a few months ago. I walk by my old high school sometimes and as I see new students I think to myself, "You have no idea how lucky you are to still be in high school".

We also talked about how people usually say that the college years are the best years of our lives. It's my third month, I know, but... I'm not feeling it. Probably because people who say that are people who spend their college life in a dorm room. I don't. I've met people that I like, but I won't be able to consider them friends or just go out with them like I do with my group of friends for a very long time.

I probably could feel this way if I was the party girl type. I'm not. I prefer staying in and reading or going out to a friend's house with other friends rather than going out to some club or some place of the sort. I don't have the "academic spirit". Not yet, at least. I never got drunk and I honestly doubt that it's going to happen anytime soon. Not that I want to get drunk and puke all over the street and be classy like that. But it seems like that's the way people enjoy their college years and the best years of their lives.

I'm not feeling it.

John, my manual

I saw John Mayer last night. Such a dream.

It brought up feelings that I never felt before. Seeing your favorite artist live is like something inside you bursts open and love and other feelings spread out and you can't stop crying. I couldn't stop crying. I cried during 80% of the concert, I'd say. I'm still crying every time I think about it. It was overwhelming.

He brought me happiness, but he also got me thinking of life. What everything is for, university, responsibility, everything that keeps me from being young. So scared of getting older, I'm only good at being young. I want him so much. I don't know what he does to me. He touches me in places I didn't even know I had inside me. So cliché, I know, but that really does happen.

And so, this was my day. Crying. I spent the entire day crying and being scared of life, only wanting to be on John's tour bus and living like that for the rest of my life. John is the closest thing I have to a life and heart manual. I intend to tell him that personally one day. I have this feeling inside me that I'm going to see him again sooner rather than later, but I'm so fucking scared that I won't ever get to see him again.

I wish I could see him in Madrid on the 4th. I wish I had a car so I could actually go. It's ironic, really. I don't want to get any older but everything I want to do obliges me to.

Okay, 1AM. Going to watch Grey's Anatomy's season finale, cry, listen to John in bed, cry again.

Bisou, bisou *