Removed
I was thinking, it's nice like this. My desk is littered with colored pens and pencils, paint and brushes, paper (tons of it). My hands are smeared with colors. My parents are both exasperated by how I never tend to clean up after my mess, but that's their problem. I like this mess.
I am unusually busy. Like how I really wasn't for the past semesters of my college life and this somehow feels like I have direction. Like I'm headed somewhere definite, and not just a general direction (of death at the endpoint). I've only done 10 out of 48 drawings, 2 out of 4 paintings, 2 out of 8 pages for blueprinting. I haven't done the floor plan for my 6 m. x 2.5 m. room. I have not started with my reaction paper for some play. There's this documentary still in the works, and a 6 page paper I have to revise (and maybe change all the same). And all I have is a week. There is just so much to do but the nice thing is, I've never thought of giving up. Yes, there's the occasional complaint but complaining is how I cope. This is nice and I wish I'd found it sooner.
And, it's nice not having to think all the time. Maybe it makes me an empty person. Me, with small talk. Me, with my sketches and paintings. Me, with my movies and books and lovely fictional characters. Me, with my music. This is all I am at the moment. Maybe it's bad that I'm closing off (removing myself) and not reaching out, but at this rate who cares? Seriously. Who cares?
I am unusually busy. Like how I really wasn't for the past semesters of my college life and this somehow feels like I have direction. Like I'm headed somewhere definite, and not just a general direction (of death at the endpoint). I've only done 10 out of 48 drawings, 2 out of 4 paintings, 2 out of 8 pages for blueprinting. I haven't done the floor plan for my 6 m. x 2.5 m. room. I have not started with my reaction paper for some play. There's this documentary still in the works, and a 6 page paper I have to revise (and maybe change all the same). And all I have is a week. There is just so much to do but the nice thing is, I've never thought of giving up. Yes, there's the occasional complaint but complaining is how I cope. This is nice and I wish I'd found it sooner.
And, it's nice not having to think all the time. Maybe it makes me an empty person. Me, with small talk. Me, with my sketches and paintings. Me, with my movies and books and lovely fictional characters. Me, with my music. This is all I am at the moment. Maybe it's bad that I'm closing off (removing myself) and not reaching out, but at this rate who cares? Seriously. Who cares?
that your hands are full of collge life colors is a good thing. that you have come to realize you're heading somewhere definite is all the more amazing. stagnance of the human body only breeds decay of the soul. keep the fighting stance, cars!
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