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Time to do some Christmas sings.

I got a new phone. It's weird because, really, I didn't need a new phone. I would've been fine keeping my old one. Really. But, apparently, it was time to get a new phone. I've only owned three cell phones in my life. I used my first one until it stopped working. I crashed my bike and fell on it and it stopped working properly. It would only receive half of the calls and stopped ringing entirely.

I got a bruise and stopped putting my phone in the shirt pocket on my back.

This phone, though, is pretty cool. And by pretty cool, I mean I can turn it into a really cool phone. I went for a few days with "Normandy to shore party, come in" as my ringtone. It was hard not to answer the phone as the Commander. But now it's got the Batwave. Complete with the animation. Which means, really, that I've realized a childhood dream.

As far as my communication device is concerned, I am the Batman.

And that's pretty much all I really need to get through the day. Also, it plays music. Which means I get to have a soundtrack. My life gets a soundtrack that other people will be able to hear. Now, all I have to do is queue up the proper tracks.

I'm so excited for this break. So many big plans. Writing every day. Drawing every day. Music every day. Art every day! It's going to be the best Christmas break ever. I still want to go on a trip, though. My dad just bought some new tents to replace our old one that tore on the last camping trip. Maybe I can grab the small one and just wander off into somewhere for a while. My phone has a video camera in it, which means I can probably make a horribly shitty rendition of my soon-to-be hit program Gabe Goes Places.

But I bet it's really cold outside, so that probably won't happen.


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I wonder, sometimes.

I am standing on the edge of a cliff face. A breeze whips past me as I stare out into the darkness. It's a familiar sight, comforting. The river bends below me. It stretches out, away from me at both ends. The arch of the bridge traverses the river, silhouetted by the house lights and golf course below us. So far away from us. The highway reaches out before us, straight into the hills and disappears on the horizon. It is silent. There are no cars. No planes. No animals. It is just us standing on top of the cliff. As it should be. It's late. A late weeknight. Just a normal Tuesday night to the world. I step away from the edge.

In 5 minutes, I will be 22 years old.

It's a turning point in my life. A fixed checkpoint. I'm only 21 years old, I'm not an actual adult yet. Maybe legally. But I'm still a child. I'm immature, I laugh at fart jokes. I laugh at everything. Why would I take anything seriously? 21 years old and we still have no responsibilities. We can …

Like the river, I been running ever since.

I am running with a purpose. I have a mission. The pavement is unforgiving under my heels. There is no comfortable roll in my stride, only a dull thud and a rebound. I ignore it. These shoes are not made for running. In fact, as I understand it, they are not made for many things beyond walking and fashionably lounging. These shoes were designed with limitations. I can't help but cringe at the word. Limitations. I hate the word. No, the concept. The idea of it. A limit. A boundary. An innate disadvantage. I am sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall. It seems to be the same spot every time. Light from the window strikes the floor just beyond my feet. I stare ahead at the opposite wall. It is familiar. Not too much so, though. I can almost see the exact spot I always start staring at. He sits at his desk, staring at the computer. A mix of work and personal indulgences litters his screens. There is constant white noise. The scrolling of the mouse. The steady clack of the keyboa…

Somewhere in the universe.

"I recognized you from way over there." She said. We traversed the last few steps between us. I could hardly wipe the smile from my face. "Your face got wider," she added. "Whiter?" I asked, suddenly self-conscious. "Wider." She said. We embraced, again. "It's good to see you," she said. "How's it going?" I asked. "Good." She said, releasing me. She smiles again. I return the smile. "How are you?" I'm five years ago.

"I'm great."

As I walked away from the studio, through the abandoned construction site, I thought about it. The tower of the Children's Hospital I'd become so familiar with loomed in the distance. I'm tired of losing friends, especially the ones that really matter. It was the only thought that crossed my mind as I walked home.