It fascinates me to no end how fantastically iimportant one moment can be at the time, and a mere hour later itis nothing.

Over a year ago Chas was my world, my life, everything I had, we spouted the sort of things that makes every self respecting single female want to hurl her lunch. and now . . . now it is a stepping stone.

It is amazing how much i think of the past and teh future withotu actually thinking about it or udnerstanding it. I thought i would be with Chas forever, not ebcause it hougth we would get marreid or grow old together, but because i just couldnt see me and him ending. . . .

There is a lot of thigns I cant see ending . . .

I couldnt comprehend the end of a the relationship because as far as i was concerned things were perfect, . . they werent at all but i thought they were and my slight opinion at the time was all that really mattered to me

the moment is all that matters

right now, my world is the the imrpov shwo and passing highschool, 5 years from now i may not evenbe able to remember the names of my fellow performers or what classes i took.

a mere handful of eyars ago my world was makeup and popualrity, all of which i failedat msierably . . . ad somehow they are no longer a part of my conscious memory, soemthing that i can not truly recall clearly and then only if i try with all my might.

wha tis even more fascinating is tthat i dont really want to try . . . . i dont feel any need torecall those memories, so what if years from now, i dont really want toi recall this phase of my life, when i am discovering somany things, what if i completely abandon all of this, wha tis this is another wasted part of life,

This could very well be somethign to store away in the attic with the teen magazines and bottles of foundation.

I cannot bear to think it, . . . to think that all the things that are so important now could one day be nonsense to me . . . .

I want to tell myself that this is different . . . . but i learned long ago that telling myself things wsnt quite true

somewhere in my mind is a cardboard box, labeled : teenage philosophy and depth . . . . it waits for me to stash away all this . . . when will i have to decide if it is all worth keeping around?