what comes at the end.

I can't stop thinking about death. I wonder what it means, if anything. I hope it's nothing. Maybe a reminder from my subconscious to keep living. To remind me how I much I don't want to be a Lisa and John Johnson from Green Bay, Wisconsin, with annual donations to their alma mater of twenty-five dollars, little junior yelling something intelligible on the family answering machine. But maybe I think that now, because what, I'm nineteen.
I talk to some of these people and I wonder if their lives have meaning. There's so much I want to ask them, to tell them about. Are you happy? Do you dream at all? What was it like? What is it still like? What are you living for? Who?
The thing is, you cannot ask these things of people who you are trying to get to donate to their university at work. Maybe I should just pick up a phone book and start giving people calls.
I'd like to ask people I meet, but that's some sort of social taboo, I guess.
My dreams have been really vivid and strange. One in particular stands out and evokes such a strong feeling of guilt in me. I don't know why. I'm not sure if I want to explore deeper and find out why because it just seems like a weird situation to have pop up in my dreams, but there is so much emotion that I do not understand stemming from it.

Being back in Eau Claire is nice, I guess. My bike is here. Every time I walk by the bike lock-ups, I get all smiley inside. It rained today and as I was walking to class in a t-shirt and wet sweater, all I could think about was that my bike was getting damp. I think I'm going to chain it up under the thing at Towers so it least it will have some protection from the elements, but at the same time, there are more bikes there so more of a chance someone will mess around with it. Maybe it will be ok where it is now.