so awhile ago I posted about me getting into art school, but today I wanted to share sth with the internet. as you may (or may not) know as it says in my profile description, I’m 21 years old, I live in Mexico city and on December I dropped out of college. it’s stiil kinda hard for me to say that and to talk about that because it’s just not sth that I imagined I’d ever do. I graduated with honors from high school back in 2014 at the age of 19 (because at my school you had to course a year of english after kindergarden) and I even got a scholarship to study latinoamerican literature at one of the best universities in the city. However, I need to mention that what I really wanted to study was english literature but there’re not many options to persue that major here, so I was like okay latin lit. long story short although I liked it, I actually wasn´t enjoying it. before I continue I must say that reading and drawing have been a passion of mine since forever, but it never occure to me how I could do both things until my second semester at uni that I discovered illustration. of course I knew it existed but I never thought I could be an illustrator. back then (2015) I thought that I could graduate in latin lit and then make a masters or even study another major. then i realized that I didn’t wanted to wait, I wanted to start working on my dreams because they were so clear. for the first time in a long time I knew exactly what I wanted to do!! I couldn’t change major at my uni because if I’d do it I would lose my scholarship and I couldn’t pay the tuition any longer. so I went to the hell of applications (again) and I got in two of the best programs for graphic design. 

I mean I know I could finished that major but it wasn’t for me and I could’t allow myself to keep wasting my parent’s money in sth that I wasn’t even enjoying. although I don’t consider that year and a half as a wast of time because a) I learn a hell lot and b) I met amazing people who support me. 

I just wanna say that is never too late to persue your dreams. I know that it’s more common the story of that person whose parents wanted him to be a lawyer or a doctor but he actually wanted to be an artist idkk. the point here is that nobody know what they’re doing, we all learn along the way and it’s okay to make mistakes, it’s okay to not like your major, but do sth about it!! 

I got a lot of good news today, in terms of what I DON’T have,,,but that leads to more questions and tests and missing work. Not really helpful right now.

I’m also frustrated that in my time of being out of my head, I hurt someone I care about. I’ve reached out, but they’ve made it very clear that it’s too little, too late.  ( Don’t let the Winchesters fool you, you never get to come back to life to open arms and leave the past in the Pit with Adam.)

Before I begin writing.. If any of you feel as if my blog triggers you to have bad thoughts, please stop reading..

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Not going to lie. Some mornings I feel like there is no point in waking up. I am at the point in my life where I feel like I am living for everyone else, but myself. But I know that the feelings I am having will eventually pass (even though I feel like they won't) because they have came and passed before. 

So I wake up, and keep living.

My plan for today was to call the YWCA (www.ywca.org). YWCA is a nation wide organization to help eliminate racism, empower women and girls, and promote peace, justice, freedom, and dignity for all. They have support groups, therapy, shelters, and other support available. They help people with things like sexual assault, domestic violence, and child sexual abuse. 

For me, the hardest part of all of this is admitting to myself that I am a victim of rape.. It makes my stomach turn, my eyes feel heavy with tears, and my body feels weak every time I say it. I have collapsed before. It was even hard to type the words. 

The time leading up to making this phone call today with a friend was not pretty. I was thinking to myself, "I can't call, because it didn't happen to me" "I don't need help. I can figure it out by myself." "I don't want this to become real." I wanted to deny that it happened. I felt real sick. I wanted to avoid the next step in getting help. I didn't want it to become real. 

Well. It's real. And the phone call made it that way. I am spent. I cannot do this by myself, and frankly no one can carry around a memory of an assault by themselves. If I don't get help soon, I will not be able to live. 

I hate admitting to myself that I need help...

I made the call. I am going in on Monday for advocacy. Basically to talk about what they (the YWCA) can help me best with, and which programs I should get into. 

See.. Here I go... Getting teary-eyed and feeling like I am going to throw up. It is getting too real.