anticipatory grieving

So what accounts for this ennui?

I feel as though I'm as prepared as I can be for the terrifying transition from student nursing to the role of independant practitioner. I realize there's still a long way to go, but it's not exactly like I'll be mourning the loss of the hassles of lectures, homework, and the paradoxes of clinical practice as a student.

Summers (particularly the end of may or the end of april) have taken on a decidely unpleasant role in the pattern of my life. Features of transition and uncertainty dominate, reflection and refraction, hints of renewal dominated by overwhelming loss.

I've come to dread the summer. Seemingly arbitrary forces always seem to come together to make my summers miserable. The allergies and sun (I dislike the sun) are bad enough as it is, but summertime just happens to be the time when all of life's slings and arrows strike their target (me) with unnerving accuracy.

It always comes on through hints and duplicity, through the carelessness of others, through my own apathy and resignation, but most of all from my own hopes and expectations.

I don't like the pattern that's forming.

Winters aren't all that great either.

I have the same desire for stability that you have.

This too, shall pass, of course.

What will? Stability, the desire, or me?

D. All of the above.

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