Complicated. Why does it all have to be so complicated? The college. The love. The future. The now. It doesn’t make any sense to me. In some classes you’ll learn about how philosophers had these theories that you should engage in ‘that which makes you happy’….if that’s the case then why do I put myself through college? Do you ever feel sometimes that you’re just a lost fish in the sea? Like you’re only swimming along because the rest of the class is swarming around you, smothering you? And that somedays [like today] you turn your back against your class of fish for just a moment, and realize you just might be doing it because they are? You think for a second where your life was two and a half years ago when you stepped onto your first college campus. You realize that you’re just as lost and alone in your life now as you were back then. That you still have just as little of an idea what you want to do with your future as you did when you were a freshman. And now you’re a junior and you’re REALLY expected to know. It’s overwhelming. It is like a thousand bricks pressed down onto your chest while you’re drowning for just a second of fresh air. And the other end of it is almost like an addiction. You’re in school for three and a half month increments at a time. When you’re in school, if you’re me, you absolutely hate your life. You want to cry every second of everyday, rip every hair follicle you have out, punch yourself in the head for enrolling in the hard professors-again, and cry some more. You question every decision you could possibly make-like ever. Do you really want that second taco? Does he really love you? Blue pen or black? And then somehow you look up and you have a month left of your semester but you’re ready to be done. So you lose your mind and motivation at the perfect time and just want to give up. Finally you have to kick yourself in the rear one more time and buckle back down, you can’t give up yet. Then you look up again and just like that, you’re semester is done. Now you have a month off before entering in your sixth semester of Hell on Earth. And you kinda miss it after a week or two. Like not enough to actually go back, but just enough to remember feeling worthy and intelligent when getting back your “I’m a decent college student” all-nighter paper from last week. And then before you know it, you’re back into your next semester, and you’re hair hasn’t grown back enough yet to pull out again…so now what are you supposed to do? You resort to an average of three mental breakdowns a week. Writing it all down and making it official that you’re still losing your mind. Babbling on to people that could care less, and no one in particular. Talking about bricks, and classes of fish, and sobbing, and food. College and love and life, it’s all a mess. My hair’s a mess, my heart’s a mess, and it’s raining out today.