My friend made an incredibly interesting statement a day or two ago. (She's an art student)
"On the greyscale of happiness, some fucker took the white away."
Now, I'd like to say that the first year of college has been pretty sweet for me. I've gotten a lot of experience in a field that I never thought I'd think about past high-school. Along with this, the cliche selfexploration has yielded various contradictions that I was previously not aware of, as emphasized by Nicole's incomplete color output.
The first subject of this self-exploration would be: Drug-usage. Although this may seem ridiculous (at least to me) given my excessive experimentation in such escapes, college has added one little extra addendum to this. Nicole really brought this one to my attention: she isn't very happy and constantly jumps from one medication/doctor to the next in search of the magic pill that will restore her happiness. She doesn't really look at the possible causes of her eternal discomfort, she would rather have a doctor and a bottle sweep them away. While I, on the other hand, spend hours and hours trying to understand just why I feel so fucking sad. And in the end when I get frustrated I resort to unhealthy and dangerous things to fix it; while, of course, adding in a little piece of self-destructive entertainment into my life.
Second thing: I am completely and utterly incapable of acting independently. Rephrased: I must have some sort of mother-figure in my life. This may or may not turn out to be an issue as time goes on, given the fact that I'm not even 20 yet; but, nonetheless, it is a rather pathetic statement. Though currently I have three mothers, and the real one is only now, in my eyes, beginning to fulfill her duties as far as taking an active interest in my life. This is not to disrespect her innumerable accomplisments in regard to rasing her two children, however one might fault her for her endless attention to detail regarding the results of our efforts, rather than our particular condition. Really, I haven't liked my real mom for about three years, when, one night, after a friend of mine commited suicide she said to me, "It's alright to be sad. But, don't let it get in the way of your schoolwork." I suddenly had this distinct impression that I wasn't really her son, just a show piece. So after I left our comfortable house she could turn to the world and proclaim, look what I have sent upon you! Yes, let's look. On second thought, let's NOT. So, in the meantime I've jumped from mother to mother: Sarah P, Cybal L, Jo W, Tiffany L. While these four are some of my best friends, and one my lovely girlfriend, I give into their will almost unconditionally when it comes to matters regarding my health. When relaxing at TLee's house, I commented about some facet of my health and not six seconds later I had a thermometer in my mouth, and some three minutes after that I was in pajamas curled up in bed. And when I woke up, she was sitting on the edge of the bed with a round of meds, herbs, and that fucking thermometer. And I loved it.
Lastly, and fear not, for this exploration is simple, I dislike downtown LA with a passion. I apparently didn't realize how much physical mobility I had at home and I miss it.
Anyhow, for those who care to remember, or care at all, it is now approximately 10 days until I return home. I'm happy. Jo is happy. My friends are happy, though TLee and Nicole are happy for me, not happy with me. Even my mother called and carried a wonderfully pleasent, if not slightly distanced (which seems to be the only way it'll work) conversation with me. So I'm satisfied. I've got a final on Thursday, Monday, and two on Tuesday (No, that is not a Dominoes special). So here it goes people, wish me luck.
*edit*
So, somebody sent me a picture of me. They told me that it personified the whole of my existance. Some might be included to agree.
"On the greyscale of happiness, some fucker took the white away."
Now, I'd like to say that the first year of college has been pretty sweet for me. I've gotten a lot of experience in a field that I never thought I'd think about past high-school. Along with this, the cliche selfexploration has yielded various contradictions that I was previously not aware of, as emphasized by Nicole's incomplete color output.
The first subject of this self-exploration would be: Drug-usage. Although this may seem ridiculous (at least to me) given my excessive experimentation in such escapes, college has added one little extra addendum to this. Nicole really brought this one to my attention: she isn't very happy and constantly jumps from one medication/doctor to the next in search of the magic pill that will restore her happiness. She doesn't really look at the possible causes of her eternal discomfort, she would rather have a doctor and a bottle sweep them away. While I, on the other hand, spend hours and hours trying to understand just why I feel so fucking sad. And in the end when I get frustrated I resort to unhealthy and dangerous things to fix it; while, of course, adding in a little piece of self-destructive entertainment into my life.
Second thing: I am completely and utterly incapable of acting independently. Rephrased: I must have some sort of mother-figure in my life. This may or may not turn out to be an issue as time goes on, given the fact that I'm not even 20 yet; but, nonetheless, it is a rather pathetic statement. Though currently I have three mothers, and the real one is only now, in my eyes, beginning to fulfill her duties as far as taking an active interest in my life. This is not to disrespect her innumerable accomplisments in regard to rasing her two children, however one might fault her for her endless attention to detail regarding the results of our efforts, rather than our particular condition. Really, I haven't liked my real mom for about three years, when, one night, after a friend of mine commited suicide she said to me, "It's alright to be sad. But, don't let it get in the way of your schoolwork." I suddenly had this distinct impression that I wasn't really her son, just a show piece. So after I left our comfortable house she could turn to the world and proclaim, look what I have sent upon you! Yes, let's look. On second thought, let's NOT. So, in the meantime I've jumped from mother to mother: Sarah P, Cybal L, Jo W, Tiffany L. While these four are some of my best friends, and one my lovely girlfriend, I give into their will almost unconditionally when it comes to matters regarding my health. When relaxing at TLee's house, I commented about some facet of my health and not six seconds later I had a thermometer in my mouth, and some three minutes after that I was in pajamas curled up in bed. And when I woke up, she was sitting on the edge of the bed with a round of meds, herbs, and that fucking thermometer. And I loved it.
Lastly, and fear not, for this exploration is simple, I dislike downtown LA with a passion. I apparently didn't realize how much physical mobility I had at home and I miss it.
Anyhow, for those who care to remember, or care at all, it is now approximately 10 days until I return home. I'm happy. Jo is happy. My friends are happy, though TLee and Nicole are happy for me, not happy with me. Even my mother called and carried a wonderfully pleasent, if not slightly distanced (which seems to be the only way it'll work) conversation with me. So I'm satisfied. I've got a final on Thursday, Monday, and two on Tuesday (No, that is not a Dominoes special). So here it goes people, wish me luck.
*edit*
So, somebody sent me a picture of me. They told me that it personified the whole of my existance. Some might be included to agree.
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You like LTJ?? I knew I adored you for a reason!!