Broken records

Home alone and procrastinating an essay leads to an eventful and insightful walk down livejournal memory lane. This time I opted to re-live my single, boy-crazy phase of two years past. I feel older in the sense that I'd like to give my twenty-one year old self a big hug and tell her "IT'S GOING TO BE OKAY AND YOU'RE GOING TO FIGURE THINGS OUT AND YOU'RE GOING TO LEARN WHO YOU ARE AND YOU HAVE SO MUCH GROWING UP TO DO!", but at the same time I feel like not much else has changed. I am still playing the same broken records, just in slightly different form.

Need proof? I thought this poem was written about my situation two years ago, and today, I still feel that way except this situation now involves a different boy but an always too familiar ending.

I have changed the numbers on my watch,
And now perhaps something else will change.
Now perhaps
At precisely 2a.m.
You will not get up
And gathering your things together
Go forever.
Perhaps now you will find it is
Far too early to go,
Or far too late,
And stay forever

-Brian Patten