The last day of my eighth grade year, I wrote, in a ratty little book, my bucket list. Until about sophomore year, I added things I hoped to do, places I hoped to go, people I hoped to meet, books I hoped to read, and things I hoped to accomplish. I pretty much hadnt touched it since, again, sophomore year. Today, I picked it up and was kind of mad at myself for not tending to it until I realized that I accomplished twenty-three of the couple-hundred things that younger me wanted to do. I may not have seen the Louvre or the Serengeti, but its kind of cool to see that I have maintained he same interests and life goals for at least the last few years.
Posted on: Wed, 16 Apr 2014 00:27:01 +0000
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