I've opened up this blank page a small number of times over the past few months and written so many little things. My eyes have spilled over in tears, much as they always do when I find myself here, and I erased everything because there are some things that I will never need to remember. But I refuse to not allow myself to cross this line of self-expression ever again. I always feel so tempted to write it all out. I feel like that melodramatic fourteen year old that lived inside of me ten years ago. I have lived my life inside of these words for more than ten whole years because I have never learned to be two very different extremes named passive agressive or explosive. There is no in between. As of last week I finished college. We haven't launched our graduate show just yet, that'll be Thursday, and I haven't gotten my results, but as things stand I have finished and smoothed out every last thing that I could do towards my degree and I think it's pretty safe to say that come this time next month I'll have an honours degree in photography. For whatever good it'll do me. I don't like people and I don't want to shoot weddings or babies or your stupid fuck ugly fake orange face, so I am left at zero. I came home on that last day at one in the morning, arriving in the door having left my house at ten the previous morning and I felt nothing but tired and deflated. The stress hasn't lifted just yet but I'm praying that it will. I know it will. I hope it will. I'm tired now. I'll write more some other time.