They say that life is a rollercoster, but mine nearly literally is. Well, at least in my head. And mine's not as jerky and loopy as some rollercosters may be. Mine just shoots up then drops down, like the former Viper at Six flags. Not too scary, but enough to shake you up a little bit and maybe drop your stomach down to your knees.
I realize that I'm a drama queen, though. I don't normally make this fact nor the proof to this fact public, but, internally, I truly am. I can make excuses that my Italian family is to blame, or that it has to be some crazy hormonal thing, but in the end I know it's just me. This is mostly to counteract the boredom that is this city and my life inside of it. I'm convinced that this rollercoster is more exciting than a moving-walkway sort of life. The kind that you ride to get to the other side of a long hallway in an airport. They get you from A to B, but they aren't very fun. The robotic voice over the intercom says "THE WALKWAY IS ENDING; PLEASE WATCH YOUR STEP" over and over again as you drift to the designated and predictable end compared to a sudden, jerky ending that leaves you breathless and exhilerated. Maybe a rollercoster was what I wanted all along? But I need to be careful what I wish for.
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