Quarterly Review

   I am often afraid of my mind. For example, I can't watch anything moderately frightening because my imagination just takes all scary things to the next level. For real though, I can't even watch Beetlejuice. Another example, I legitimately only have nightmares, and really violent ones too, which is made even more troubling considering the fact that I avoid all gruesome images like the plague, like Beetlejuice. Yesterday though, I thought of the scariest thing that has ever crossed the desert of shadows that I call my mind.
   I am having a quarter life crisis. As in, I was casually having a crisis, and I realized that I am a quarter of the way through my life pretty much. My plan was to die somewhere around thirty nine so I don't live long enough to experience the repercussions of twenty-first century orthodontic tools like the handheld heat lamp they shove into your mouth. As you may have guessed, I am not ten years old (although I was just as jaded at ten) so I am calculating this quarter of my life in relation to living as long as a normal person in North America (barring the effects of modern orthodontics).
   A quarter of my entire flapping life is gone. I only have three more periods this long before I am swimming with the fishes (I should be so lucky as to die at sea, I'm sure I'll go in a much more mainstream way than that). What have I even done with myself up until now? I mean, I was the french language valedictorian of my elementary school, one time I got a nosebleed because my friend punched me in the face accidentally, and I danced on stage at a dubstep show last year. Gold medal life. The way I'm headed at this point, maybe I'll get to emcee a friend's wedding, get hit by that same friend accidentally with her car, and have a seizure on stage at a dubstep revival show.
   I know that I haven't done much because I am young and youth is meant to be spent in classrooms. God, that sounds even more depressing than being a quarter way through my life. I feel like I better get started on my plans for getting struck by a car.