Again with this Tiring Process.

Truly, the morning is the perfect setting for a 17-year-old to brood about the past events that have occurred in her last 17 years of life. Perhaps not even of life.

Thoughts come and go, just like friends, just like Summer's greenery. Such is the state-of-mind of this certain little girl. And quite honestly, she believes she can do well without such arbitrariness ruling every waking moment of her life. Of course, it is that very randomness that, she feels, defines her, molds her. But at such an ungodly hour, even sleep cannot tempt her from the musings that come and go like Mother Nature's love.

Ponder, desire, hope, fuss, relax. Repeat.

Should I act on it?
Will he continue? Will I?
Is she peeved with me? But for what?
Will I see them again? Do I want to?
How much time do I have? What exactly is time?
Who are they really? Should I even care now?
What am I doing? What are they all doing?
What do I want? What do they want?
What does he want?
I hope it's me.

... But why?

Ponder, desire, hope, fuss, relax. Repeat.