❀ ℓαυgнѕ ωιтнσυт fєαя ❀

Basically, I’ve needed a fresh start for a while. What’s been on my blog in the past and what’s been on my dash has made it pretty impossible for me to even log in here anymore--so I’m starting fresh!

Hey there. Pretty sure I haven’t logged in for months but guess who spent the entire evening playing with dollmakers with some college friends and made an obnoxious RPG self-insert using this one.

I guess I’ve thought about more today than I care to admit, but if I type this out, maybe I’ll be able to say it.

It’s easy for me to think about my situation and think my efforts are fruitless, working towards a “useless” degree with a comparatively light workload and no second major and no minor and no internship and employment so minimal I might as well not have a job at all. I won’t lie: before going back to school, the thought of foregoing it entirely in favor of vocational training crossed my mind more than once. But now, given my circumstances, graduating isn’t something I’m going to take for granted (and, yes, I will graduate--one way or another I’m going to come out of this strong and I’m not going to let my illnesses defeat me).

I’m reminded of what my degree is going to mean to me as I write a paper with a heating pad draped over my stomach just after a light meal decided it was going to fight its way down, as I take an exam with five minutes left to go and dizziness threatens to swallow my being and oh God I’m going to vomit all over this booklet aren’t I, as there are books to read and research to do but my arms feel like lead weights and staying conscious almost feels like too much, as unexplained panic grips me in the middle of a lecture and I have to escape before anyone notices how badly I’m shaking.

And, no, this time I won’t say much about what’s been going on in my personal life--know only that I’ve been wondering day in and day out what I’m “supposed” to be (oh, our obsession with labels), flittering about one aspiration to the next. Whether I am any closer to figuring that out is of little importance to me anymore, quite honestly, not while my health continues to fluctuate. But knowing what you aren’t meant to be is one step closer to it, right?

Last night, I set to work on art for a side blog and realized I had scarcely drawn since I left MICA; actually, I realized I had little interest in illustration at all--not to say it never existed and was any less real before, but a year of trying to shoehorn myself into a field and into a skillset that wasn’t meant for me exhausted the passion I had for it. Might it have flourished in a slightly different world? Who knows, but I have say I was mostly shocked to find I wasn’t bothered by this fact very much.