It’s been awhile since I’ve been at the house alone. Friday was the first day in September that actually felt like autumn. There was a weird silence when I got home- the house was empty but in a somewhat disturbing way. My parents have been “empty nesters” for a month now and the house is cleaner than ever. It looks the way it does in my head when I think of home, but it isn’t really “home” anymore.

This time of year, my mom likes to have the windows open. I don’t like being cold, but I like hearing everything outside. Mostly just trees shaking, cars going by, pedestrians talking, whatever happens in a redundant New Jersey suburb. In years past I used to sit on the couch in the family room underneath a bunch of blankets and just listen. Now I’m big enough to not freeze to death, but I still do the same thing. It’s not familiar anymore. I feel like I’m not supposed to be there.

I’ve been trying to separate myself from home, and from abuse. Living away has helped me recognize harmful dynamics that were happening at home, almost exclusively with my mother. I don’t like being controlled and I don’t like being hurt. Now that I can identify what was happening at home, I don’t want to be there. And if I could return to a time before anything ever occurred and I was happy, I wouldn’t. The home I love stopped existing when I was 13, and so now I don’t want to be home.

So that’s the bad news. The good news is much better.

The other day, I got to see Korn with my close friend Vincent. Vincent and I used to be best friends, but we drifted a couple years ago and went our own ways. We’re on perfectly fine terms though, and we have been talking more recently. I got free tickets to this concert and I don’t even listen to Korn, but Vin is really into them so I thought it would be fun to go together. We made a whole thing about it and tailgated before the concert. To me there’s nothing remarkable about getting high and rocking out anymore. I just do that all the time now. Hotbox the car into oblivion, head bang until I herniate myself, you get the idea. We had a great time.

The best part about that concert for me, though, was getting to experience Vincent’s excitement for it. Vin doesn’t really have a great home life and can’t get out much, so this was a big deal for him. I knew I had to bring him when I got my hands on the tickets, and I’m really glad I did because at one point I looked over and he had such a huge smile on his face. I dragged him up into the lawn seats and we were just going wild. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him that excited, honestly. I mean, I’ve known this kid for four years and I’ve seen when things were really bad. It feels amazing to see him happy and know that our relationship now isn’t built on solace and shared pain anymore. We were there for each other during the worst parts of both of our lives, but now I see a future where we aren’t hurting and can have fun together like we were never able to. It’s just such a relief to me.

I respect Vincent quite a bit, and I realized that the other night. He always pushes through. There were times in my life where I was doubtful but I think he will live a happy and abuse-free life. Karma better come back around for that kid, I swear.

Things are not as lovely as they were for the first two weeks of college. I still have a lot to learn about regulating my emotions and managing my mental health in general. As it gets colder I can feel the joy being sucked out of me like it always does and the loathing is driving me up the wall. I haven't been myself at all. It feels awful.

To start, I haven't had a proper meal in four days and just a couple days ago I realized I went two days straight without eating. When I look in the mirror I can see my ribs and when I noticed that yesterday I started crying. I don't have a scale here to weigh myself so I can't keep track of my weight and that has almost definitely contributed to my poor eating habits, but if I were to get a scale I would probably enter that obsessive neurotic state I had at home. I am trying to do better but I'm just not hungry, or I'm too anxious to eat.

Additionally, to no one's surprise, I am so lonely that it is actually debilitating. But this is a perpetual problem in my life. No matter what I do, no matter where I go and who I talk to I always feel lonely in the end. 8,000 people attend my school, you'd think at least one would be able to keep up with me. That's always the hardest part. I just need one person who can meet my ridiculously high standards for a mutual friendship, although I don't know how ridiculous they are anymore. I just want someone who isn't afraid to say they've got my back. I can't think of anyone who has been able to prove that to me. Also, is it too much to ask for someone to initiate something for once? I'm so used to not having that happen that when it does it makes me unreasonably happy. It hardly ever happens. Of course I still love my current friends, without a doubt, but sometimes I feel like I'm settling, and texting doesn't always cut it for me. I don't know. I feel guilty for being lonely, even if it is how I truly feel.

The days are getting shorter and the air is getting colder. Every other day something reminds me that this wonderful summer is ending. If I'm to anticipate seasonal depression, I need to be prepared for it. I need a good support system, socially and personally. I think I've been doing alright lately aside from the poor eating habits, so that will get my immediate attention. Aside from that I've still been staying active and getting out of the house, I'm still kicking. I don't really know what to do about the loneliness though. This isn't a new problem, and I've been running in circles for ages now. I guess I need to find new solutions.

My Principles of Journalism course is insufferable. I am seriously astonished by the idiocy of my professor and classmates. I'm not usually one to put myself above others in academic settings but I am just blown away by the shallow contributions of the people in this specific course.

Just now, my class was asked about their vision for the future of journalism (as in what they want to see, not what they can easily predict). All of the people who answered wanted to see news media prevail on social apps like Instagram, Twitter, Tiktok, etc.. And as I type they are battling about which social app is the best for news.

How about none of them? Isn't that the obvious answer? Look, I can't completely discredit the unique media ecosystems of social media platforms, but anyone with a fleck of intelligence knows that the we live in an age of misinformation and commercial content. Many of the grudges I hold with liberalism and the trivial, self-gratifying beliefs of my generation are perpetuated and spread on these platforms. Social media has bred a generation of people who fail to challenge the validity of content they are consuming and adopt the most homogenized doctrines with an illusion of individual importance. They all want to die on Liberal Hill. Liberal Mount Olympus. There is a giant Tiktok orgy happening up there full of black squares and change.org petitions.

The future of journalism is obviously digital and the scape of news media is always becoming worse and worse. It’s a congealed sludge. Corruption, uniformity, commercialism, exploitation. Nothing can be trusted. Social media, on a political level, has stripped us of our ability to think critically, and it's so obvious and yet no one seems brave enough to dip their toes in the water and challenge what they know to be real or right. I am not one of them anymore, and university is making that painfully clear.

Why am I here? Why did I choose this major?

It's been awhile. I haven't felt the urge to write. A lot has been happening though and I think it might be good to talk about it.

For starters, I'm completely moved in to my apartment. The week or so leading up to my departure (which was Thursday night) I was in a highly emotional state with little to no control over how I was feeling. If I'm being honest, it hit me way harder than I thought it would. Which is okay, and I'll get through it, but it still sucks. Seriously, I don't think I've cried this much since sophomore year. The funny part is that every day last week was amazing and fun, but I'd get home and just curl over in tears because I'm so emotional about everything for no reason.

However, I was inclined to make the most of the time I had left. I made a point of visiting a bunch of people/places and I was able to get some final good times squeezed in before I went off to Stockton. Just recently I hung out with Lily, who made brownies with me and then showed me how she uses the darkweb, and the day before departure I hung out with my coworker Jon and he took me to a smoke shop. I also went out with an old friend of mine, Vincent, who wanted to catch up with me and we bid farewell to the Pequannock overpass by defacing it with pastel pink graffiti, so that was cool. Adam and I hung out the other week, I already said goodbye awhile ago to Corinne, Sami, and Ishwar, and Jatin and Corey will always be around because they are internet friends. The one thing I regret is that I didn't get to see Amanda before she left, but she's over in Hoboken so she's not really "gone" per se (fuck you Corey). I'm satisfied with how I've left things, and as much as I like to scare myself with change, I know these people will all be there when I need them. It's not like they are dead or something.

What really fucked with me emotionally though was leaving my job. Not because of the work itself, but because of the people there. I've heard it a million times from my coworkers that know the company; they say our specific Trader Joe's has an infamously amazing community and team dynamic that you can't really find at other stores. And I believe it, because I've met some of the kindest, funniest, most easy to get along with people I know through that job. I was collectively appreciated and encouraged to be myself. As someone who didn't often feel a sense of belonging around my peers growing up, the diversity and support of the people I worked with was refreshing and very valuable to me. On my last day, everyone was especially excited for me and it was hard not to cry. When my shift ended I couldn't even make it to my car without bursting into tears. Those people really changed my life. I knew two months into that job that leaving would be hard.

But that's how life works. I'm aware of how sensitive I am to these things and I think it's okay. Even if it sucks sometimes.

As for moving in, I am living in an unfamiliar wonderland. I can now say I have my dream bedroom, which is indescribably pink, fluffy, and covered in unicorns. I think some of my friends dread it. And at the moment, I kind of do, too, because I haven't yet adjusted to it. Sometimes OCD can complicate living in spaces that I'm not used to, so it will take some time to rid of old rituals and create new ones. I've been sort of haphazardly mimicking behaviors I had at home in this new place and it feels weird. I know I'll get comfortable at some point, though. I think it's good to have roommates, too. One of them, Emma, moved in yesterday and I immediately felt more at home once we got to talking. We have a lot in common and get along very well which is such a relief. Emma is an interesting character. I nervously approached her with my questions about having weed in the apartment and she laughed. We sat down and she told me about her drug experiences, much to my pleasure. I mean, this girl literally had the FBI show up to her house. Needless to say, I think she's chill about it. Actually, I think she might be stoned all the time. I can't really tell. Either way, it's fine by me.

I'm feeling better now that I've written this. I'm excited to make new friends and memories. One thing I love about myself is that I'm always changing and I'm looking forward to seeing what college does to me. As long as I can keep up with my classes, I think I'll be alright. Everything else is just a cakewalk to me.

Today I did something stupid and took my ADHD medication for the first time since my prescription ran out back in 2019. In all honesty, I picked up a bottle of pills a couple months after my withdrawal ended and just never took them because I didn't have to anymore. My parents weren't aware of the scale of my abusive habits back then (and still aren't) so the prescriptions kept rolling in. All of which I happily declined, except one. It has been sitting in my desk along with my Lexapro for ages.

50mg Vyvanse, taken at 10:37 this morning.

I ate around 10:00 so I had something in my stomach to hold me over. After taking the pill, I settled in and watched The Shawshank Redemption so I could focus on something other than the medication. Once it was in full swing, I went about my day as usual, and now I am awaiting the comedown at 7:00 or 8:00. That will be the hardest part, but right now I'm taking a literal trip down memory lane.

The most noticeable side effect of lisdexamfetamine, for me, is the sharpness. Which I assume is the intended effect considering it's ADHD medication. However, that clarity is merely an illusion as I've learned, since I make plenty of stupid decisions while "under the influence" so to speak. The actual attentiveness is negligible when you consider the emotional toll that this medication takes. For instance, I have been crying on and off all day for imaginary reasons, both good and bad. My feelings about life, change, and other people have been artificially changed. It's like some "big picture" has been placed in front of me and it is driving me to tears to look at it. Grounding can be difficult in this state because the physical reactions to feelings like frustration and anxiety can't be mitigated with self-awareness alone. I can recognize why I am experiencing a certain emotion, but there is virtually nothing I can do about it. So all the drug-induced elation and discomfort must remain until it wears off. Even at the moment, it is making it extremely difficult to write. There is too much uncertainty in my mind to confidently speak about it, but I doubt I'd be able to do any better even after it wears off.

Socially, Vyvanse is a nightmare. The psychological effects of amphetamines cause me to talk about things I wouldn't normally discuss with certain people. For instance, I was suddenly very keen on talking with my mom this morning for no good reason at all, and that really sucks in retrospect. This was an anticipated effect, and also the one I hate the most. I don't like spilling my guts to people without cause or intention, but all four medications I've been on have done that to me. Being emotional and open with my parents is something I avoid completely otherwise, so the conversations I had today are a bit regrettable even if they aren't harmful. I'm cautious about my interactions with my friends at the moment for similar reasons.

As for physical effects, it's mostly just sweating and dry mouth right now. When I'm up and walking around, I'm either sluggish or absolutely wired, or both at the same time. I feel the need to pull my body inward and be held as tightly as possible. Don't really know what that one's about. I know when the comedown hits, I'll be shaking uncontrollably and these physical reactions will become stronger. Fortunately, a little bit of weed should help me through that, but I'm thinking I'll try to tough it out and get a grip on it.

The best way to describe how ADHD medication affects me is that it's like feeling everything at once, but not in a cool or magical way. It's not good. But in that sense, it's exactly how I remember it. It's weird, being teleported back to the exact mental state that I lived in throughout high school. It goes beyond being familiar. I might as well have picked up from where I last left off on the day I took my last pill in 2019. I feel like that person again, just in terms of how I'm thinking and feeling. I'm largely indifferent to this though since I know how these drugs work. I don't feel threatened by it at all. Getting through withdrawal, as I've always described it, was like waking from a long dream. It takes a lot to even be dependent on ADHD medication and taking one pill won't launch me back into drug dependency. It's just interesting to experience it again after so long, even if Vyvanse is a horrible, traumatizing, unethical drug.

In conclusion, I can't believe they give this shit to children. Can't wait for the comedown!

There is always so much to absorb on my reading page. I'm pretty sure all the world's knowledge rests somewhere on Dreamwidth, even that of ancient texts and times before human history. At least, that's how I feel scrolling through some of these user pages. Middle-aged Dreamwidth writers are immaculate in that they are always raw, calm, and pensive. After a good scroll through my reading page, I feel the complete opposite. Like a thrashing, self-absorbed teenager. It's a bit funny.

I aspire to write with the confidence and grace of the people on this site. There are some deeply intelligent people here, quoting intelligent texts and talking about intelligent things. I know better than to be pressured by that standard. After all, I am in the minority of this website's age demographic and have a long way to go as both a journalist and hobbyist. Reading the work of other users is a potent method for self-criticism. I can gauge what writing styles I prefer and what I need to work on without feeling intimidated by the overstated demand of an audience. This is a good community. I've already come so far as a writer and a person because of my devotion to this journal.

What I want to work on most in my writing is honestly the subject matter. I've had some notable ups and downs with spirituality and the like this year, and now the nature of my content has changed to mostly life anecdotes. I'd like to write more about general ideas that allow me to recount past experiences. I've been thinking of making a list of one-word prompts that are benign enough for me to pick one randomly at any given time and write about it. I'd also like to cite more people or works in my writing and fortify my influences in the emotional and technical capacities.

Although I like to set these goals, what I value the most in pursuit of this journal is sincerity. Everything I say here is reminiscent of who I am as a person and where I am in my life. My goals are not really priorities in that sense, but they are always at the back of my mind. Maybe one day, years from now, I'll be one of those laid back intellectual Dreamwidth scholars, sipping my wine and quoting epic poems in my entries. A kid can dream.

I was invited to a party this week at the house of a mutual friend, Anya. Ishwar, Corinne, and Sami all talked fondly of this person and the memories they've made at her house. I was especially excited for this because I've never been to an actual house party and didn't think I'd get one under my belt before college. That, and because this party asked that everyone dress in formal attire. I was beyond enthusiastic about this, since this gave me an opportunity to do something I've seldom done before and dress in formal female clothing.

I've been waiting for a chance to do this for awhile now, ever since I began embracing female fashion again. When I was younger, the word "pretty" (used to describe me) might as well have been a slur. Childhood dysphoria meant I spent a decade resenting all forms of femininity, and thus I never received so-called "feminine" attention or compliments. Nowadays, femininity is estranged from my biological sex and I ache to feel and be seen as beautiful when I dress the part. I see my female friends in their prom and graduation dresses and aspire to feel that elegant, that gorgeous, that delicate. I remember when I watched American Psycho with Jatin, I fell in love with the scene where Patrick takes Jean to his apartment. I thought she was so pretty and innocent in that scene, and I wanted to be exactly like that. I wanted to be like Jean from American Psycho. This was my shot, and honestly, I think I did a pretty damn good job.

I picked out a satin dress at Macy's. When I saw it, it felt perfect for me. It was peach with white and pink roses and sleeves that draped over the sides of my shoulders. When I got home and tried it on, it fit me so well that I just stood in front of the mirror and teared up at how good I felt in it. That instance marked the dissolution of years worth of harbored doubts. It was quite emotional. I also ran out and bought sparkly gold Guess heels. I've never worn any shoe of that sort, and had to spend a good amount of time practicing walking in them. It's almost foolish how hard it is to walk in heels, but I eventually got it down.

On the night of the party, I put on heavier makeup than usual and did my hair the best I could considering it's pretty short. I was so thorough with my skincare that I was basically shining like a model. It felt fucking amazing. When Corinne picked me up, she said she swallowed her gum choking because of how good I looked, and in that moment I knew I succeeded. From that point on that smile never left my face.

In terms of the party itself, well, it's funny. I thought this was going to be a pretty sober event. My first notion of otherwise was when Corinne turned to me while driving and said "I am going to get SO trashed tonight". And that's when things got really interesting. Corinne's energy is unmatched. She is so carefree that it's hard to be nervous in her presence, so if everyone was going to be drunk tonight, that was okay. We picked up Lindsey (Corinne's best friend) and headed to the party, blasting club music out of her old Jeep and dancing as much as we possibly could in a car. The anticipation was so strong by the time of our arrival that we were giggling just walking across the wet grass to Anya's front door. When we entered, people were already gathered around the living room table playing poker. Some people I knew, most I didn't. The people who did looked a little shocked by my appearance, which was both funny and reassuring. I knew I was in to receive a different type of attention than usual. For about an hour we sat around the table and a very kind boy who I didn't know talked close to me about how to play poker. Then, Sami was handed a bag of bud and immediately locked eyes with me, bearing a devious smile. She took me by the arm and a small group of us made our way to the basement, where another group of unfamiliar people were chilling on the couch. I was led into a small room with a sign on the door that simply said "Knock Before Entering" and had a bong drawn below it. To my surprise, this room was nothing more than a couch with a coffee table, but it was absolutely plastered in soccer posters, pictures, and various paraphernalia. It was a bit hilarious. I watched as Sami and Anya rolled two joints with great skill, and we all passed them around, hotboxing the room into oblivion. I don't remember much about this part besides Messi staring at me the whole time. Mostly just speaking and laughing. I know I was hitting it off though, and that was enough for me. When we left the room, the thick layer of smoke seeped out of the cracked door into the startling clarity of an energetic party in full swing.

For the rest of the night I floated around, high as fuck, slowly getting faded on champagne and wine, and absorbing everything around me. Sean played a song for me while we were all around the table ("Ooh Baby Baby" by Smokey Robinson and The Miracles) and honestly, I don't remember anything super specific after that. At one point I went outside and Corinne and Lindsey opened a bottle of champagne, taking swigs directly from the bottle. Corinne accidentally spit some on my dress which was pretty hilarious and I didn't really care. I really did feel like a party girl, which at that point was exactly what I was going for. However, it doesn't always pay off to be a girl surrounded by drunk guys. Later in the night, for reasons I mostly forget, a boy tried to explain why communism sucks to me which was so pathetic that I drunk texted Jatin about it. Approaching midnight, I had my shit rocked by aforementioned champagne, played some beer pong, texted Corey (apparently) and I forget everything else leading up to my departure. I remember trotting across wet grass to get my items, and hugging Corinne goodbye. Not just a normal goodbye, though. This would be the last time I partied with her, as she's off to college in Arizona as we speak. I wish I was sober enough to remember what she said to me. Corinne has really made my summer special. She'll never know how much she's given me. It was bittersweet, her seeing me off and all. But it's okay, because then a very, very cute boy drove me home that night.

Oh god, what do I say about Ryan Vetter? Maybe I was a little too crossfaded because in that 30 minutes I swear he was the cutest boy I'd ever met in my entire life (given, I like a lot of boys). He's one of Corinne's closest friends, and we actually went to middle school together. He wasn't at the party but came to drive people home and graciously gave me a ride. Corinne told me he liked Tame Impala so I put that on and he asked me about the night's events. I told him parties weren't my usual scene, and I forget what he said in response to that but it made me smile. We reminisced about middle school a little bit, talked about our friends, things like that. He had a really cute stutter, too. Jesus Christ. Yeah, I was definitely wasted. I know better than to get my hopes up with a person that nice.

Anyways, that was the party. I faked sobriety to my mom when I walked in the door at 1:30 AM, threw off my pretty dress, posted some pictures on Instagram, and collapsed in my bed. It was an absolute rollercoaster of emotions, that night. Probably not something I want to do often though, which I guess is a good trait considering I'm leaving for college soon. Regardless, the night of the 9th was really something else.

One of my better habits that I've developed in the last year or two is taking long drives. If I have nothing else to do, driving is a good way to kill time. After I got my car it just became something I do. I've explored a rather decent amount of northern New Jersey doing this. It's not really something I make a point of doing, I just do it when I feel like it and I think the payoff is surprisingly decent considering it is such a simple thing.

Driving provides me with a sense of clarity that isn't easily attainable at home. There's enough movement and concentration involved to keep me focused but still able to think about other things. It's like crack for my ADHD; the perfect balance of busy and idle. I'm also curious enough to be deeply interested in wherever I am passing through, so I've definitely gotten a good look at areas in Jersey that I've never seen before. Sometimes it's highways and cities, other times woodlands or open fields. I prefer the latter since it's usually less busy and there's more to be seen nature-wise. Driving in rural areas is just so peaceful, especially at this time of year. The fauna of early August is gorgeous and the air is perfect for opening my windows. I like to tap out whatever music I'm playing on the side of my door and just let myself become entranced by the road. I'm honestly pretty mild in terms of my ability to handle adrenaline so I appreciate the excitement I get from keeping a steady speed on a winding road. In the forested areas here, the light shines onto these canopied roads that are my favorite to drive on. I wish they were infinite, but eventually I always find myself back on a highway or in a suburb. Not to say those aren't interesting, but I'd much rather pass through the forests and farmlands. That way I can appreciate the natural beauty and let it overtake me. I love how the forests hug the road so tightly and how I can see the bodies of water shimmering through the tree line. When I come upon field areas it is usually quite sudden, and I'm always overwhelmed by how beautiful that expansiveness is. Nothing is as stunning as seeing that big picture. It's absolutely euphoric.

An important detail about this whole thing is that I don't like taking drives with other people. In fact, it usually ruins the entire experience. The presence of another person is an obligation and a distraction from that "clarity". It's ironic, too, since I wish I could share the joy I get from driving with other people and fondly imagine them there in my passenger seat, but I'm fervently annoyed when they are actually there. Trust me, I've tried, but I just can't do it. The only person who I like driving with is Will since we are on the same wavelength. I haven't gotten the impression that anyone else in my life besides him enjoys the journey the same way I do. My other friends can't even remain quiet for the duration of a 15 minute ride to Ringwood. It's a hard thing to explain, but the silence is important to the whole thing. It's like meditation or something- it's rude to interrupt.

Wanderlust is a good feeling. I really love getting in my car and going nowhere. The best part is that there is hardly ever a destination. When I'm ready to head home, I open Google Maps and shock myself with the time estimation. Usually I end up somewhere between 30-50 minutes from home, but I've driven over two hours before, and a couple times I accidentally went out of state. I love seeing how far the local roads can really take me. My parents ask me where I was when I walk in the door and I probably sound suspicious for saying "I don't know", but there's no dishonesty there. I just like driving. I don't really care where I am, I'll probably enjoy it. Driving is a habit that defines me well because it's something that I do for me to make me happy. It's the purest and most immediate form of visceral happiness I achieve in my daily life.

It is August 3rd. In less than a month I will be in college. I woke up today and that fact hit me like a damn brick. Maybe I've been sheltering myself from that reality for awhile. I know that change can be scary and I know how I handle new situations, and I wouldn't be surprised if I subconsciously prevented myself from counting the days to my departure. So much needs to be done and so much is already happening. I don't like feeling intimidated by it, but I can't lie. I'm nervous.

I think the problem is that I feel like I'm leaving things behind. My friends, pets, and coworkers are what come to mind. I can already see the presaging of specific people and it kills me to think about leaving them. Adam, for example, gave me a much longer hug than usual when he saw me at work the other day. I didn't know why until someone told me he thought I'd left already. And I'm not lying when I say it left me a little distraught. I never thought anyone else would have trouble with my leaving besides me. When I'm gone, will people miss me? Is this the part where everything slips away and life becomes "Cats in the Cradle"? A heap of obligations that casts a shadow over the experiences and people of my childhood? I ask that like I don't know the answer. I am wise enough to know that it needs to happen. If I want to do extraordinary things in my life, I can't stay here. But I also can't see what's next, so I'll have to do what I do best and go with the flow.

Still, I can't help but think I am cumbersome to myself in my sensitivity. Leaving home is emotional for many people my age, but I seriously have no idea how I'll handle it. The "what if" questions actually need consideration. What if my mental health deteriorates in college? What if I can't find healthy coping mechanisms? The last few months have been some of the happiest of my life because I've learned how to manage my conditions. It would be a slap in the face if all that progress slipped away. I will try not to let it be in vain, and I will remain mutable to the world around me. If there's anything I've learned since February it's that joy is always within my reach. I don't need a horoscope to tell me to keep an open mind to it.

I think I've explained most of my concerns, but there is something else. An unconstructed, vague resentment I harbor in my heart. I can't exactly put my finger on it, but it has to do with my evolving politics. I hate my country and its conventional middle class values, but here I am going to university. I have no other choice now but to appease a system I hate. I will not weaken to this system, that I can say definitely. But I don't want to work within it, either. I never mentioned it here but I am majoring in communications and journalism. I am afraid of ending up in a position that helps spread misinformation and lies. I swear to God I'd rather die than cater to the mainstream media.

On a different note, the convenience of internet friends has surely proven itself now. I always knew that when I went to college, I wouldn't be leaving everything behind which provides some comfort. I have three people who I talk to now on a regular basis and since our friendships are purely digital, there are no bittersweet goodbyes to be had. Instead, I'm excited to watch our paths unravel like they always have. It's a small drop of normality in an ocean of uncertainty I possess for my future, but it encourages me.

Today I looked back on several pieces of writing I did in middle school and high school. Everything is saved online nowadays- it's a bit of a luxury to have all this content to look back on. However, reflecting on these old assignments feels like someone squeezing my heart in their fist as hard as possible, and not in a good way. The thing I astound myself with the most is the fact that many, many pieces I wrote for school were... less than satisfactory. Even the ones I actually put effort into at the time pale in comparison to anything here, with the exception of a few essays I wrote more recently. Even then, hardly any of the creative writing I revisited is quality enough to be on this website (except maybe for the purpose of criticism).

It's funny how that works, isn't it? Dreamwidth is a place where I write for leisure, and the impression I get of myself on here hardly encompasses me as a person. For instance, one would never know that a majority of the writing I do outside of this space is pretty uninspired and horrible. That's because this entire journal, at its core, is a hyperfixation. It's a single side of a d20 die, something that works within the confusing parameters of my ADHD. Although I will say, this project has been much more permanent than my other fleeting obsessions. That's all there really is to say about that. I feel it provides a better perspective of myself to those who lay their eyes upon my page, though there is hardly one person here.

This week will be busy. If I am absent throughout it, I will be sure to write another 1000+ word entry about it afterwards. I can already envision the chaos that will entail. Yeesh.