Once school is out for the summer, I swear I'll be back on track. It's just been a really, really tough semester, and I want to share all of my battles and bruises with you, but I have to make sure I get through first. I am 14 days away from being completely done with classes and 23 days away from my commencement ceremony.
It's been a never ending stream of circumstances and things trying to bring me to my knees since January of this year, and a few times I've fallen pretty hard. Getting back up when you feel alone is so incredibly hard, but the days keep spinning through and I keep waking up every morning, so I know I'm still moving forward, no matter how awful things seem. There were a few weeks that pushed being some of the darkest I've ever known, and the lingering effects of that are making me jumpy, sometimes. I'm not going to lie, I'm fucking scared to death of life after graduation, but it's the thing I want more than anything else in the world right now.
I've pushed NYU and the bureaucratic system that runs it for help at every turn, and I've received almost none. So there's a lot of disillusionment and frustration, but also this raging, feverish senioritis that's about to put me over the edge to a degree I've never known. I've been so warped and by the past few months that my dream life is worlds apart from what I ever imagined it would be, and it's scary that I don't care.
If I could wake up one morning and have the life that, in this moment, would be perfect for me, I would live in a West Village apartment over a bar/brewery I co-own and run with Commando. It's a mix of classic Irish and geek culture, with a back room for a game cave that doubles as a cabaret space. I write plays and books and paint. I perform in meaningful, artsy shows that start downtown and move to Broadway, and maybe I'll write a few too. My art and the bar will pay off all debts and I can pay my parents back for everything they did for me while I was in school. I can afford physical therapy and a psychiatrist who actually helps. There's a medium coat tabby named Chell, and a rotund little Scottish terrier named Wheatley. I have a tattoo. I don't cry anymore.
So, yeah. I'm scared, but I need my own life. I need to start being able to try. I want to rely on myself, and be self sufficient. Going to class every day is so hard, because I just feel like school is making me unhappy more than anything else these days, and that's not a healthy way to feel.
Fourteen more days. I have to push and dig in to finish it all. So I spend way too long typing a blog instead of memorizing my final scene. Whatever. I needed to express. I needed to do something for myself. And for you - I've neglected my readers (if I have any left... sorry, guys), but once I'm out, I'll be back. Different, but back.
Counting down.
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