I still want marathons of coffee drinking and talking about philosophy and poetry and love; still want to sometimes stay up all night wandering by the lake, or drinking by the train tracks, or making split zines. Do they not want those things anymore, or do they just think they shouldn’t? Is this what growing up means? It’s bullshit. I understand life changes, but I still think it’s necessary to make room in our lives for friendship and adventure, magic and art.
When she had been discharged from the Army, the one thing they had stressed time and again was to try and find things to occupy her time and keep her mind settled. Try as they might to get Lynn to adjust back to the civilian lifestyle smoothly, it had been anything but. Two months later, Lynn was living out of her car, working under the table jobs for cash, and closing herself off in every way imaginable. However, the one thing she had taken to heart with all their counseling was finding ways to keep her mind calm. At least, relatively so, for Lynn. Camped out on the grass near Lake Eola, Lynn had a bag of bread next to her that she was ripping up and tossing pieces of at the swans. She liked the birds, animals in general really, and it was one way to occupy herself and not just sit around all day paranoid. Flicking another piece of bread, the swans rushed towards it, closing in on a passerby with rapid speed. “Ay! Might want to watch out, mate. The swans aren’t fucking around,” Lynn called out towards the person, figuring they deserved some warning.