between now and then

can’t stop thinking about the transitory periods in life. winter turns to spring, not warm to not cold and back again at the flip of a coin. it’s like the world can’t make up its mind. newly 17, first day of spring, rebirth and death and highs so high you can’t see the ground and lows so deep you can’t imagine anything but being buried under it all. circling back around to childhood dreams of film and fame, wondering whatifwhatifwhatif. staring at the cross ring around my finger and wondering if it ever meant anything at all. what a strange age to be.