School ending.

I am not as motivated as I used to be.
As much as I complain about school, I like the feeling that someone is caring about the state of my mind-- about what and how I am learning.
Perhaps it is merely that I am not as obsessed over this. I am not sure where to go from here-- I am going to be a senior next year-- and you cannot go to school forever. I will probably go to graduate school, or disappear to London. Which has been a mild dream for awhile.
I would like the luxury of this--- painting perhaps and writing light stanzas here and there, living in a shabby flat, and drinking shabby wine, and being utterly unaccountable for anything. Perhaps utterly happy.
I do not like it when people start making your life into a time-line. It is my life, and I prefer not to have a map detailing when and what I should be doing with it.

Mostly, I want to be surprised.