I am not a human error, I am a great thing.

This semester could really be one of the simplest things in my entire life if I just don't cop out.

1st-Tech Theater
2nd-Guitar
3rd-Speech/Debate
4th-Strings

I think that since this started, I have changed a lot. I am no longer weak and helpless, but a real woman. Recovery and rehabilitation have been intense, and I suspect they will remain as such for a very long time, but that doesn't mean I have any reason to give up. It's hard, and let me tell you right now: I think it's worth it. These diseases have stolen so much of my life, and I want it back. I need it again, to be able to live without the frenzied worrying and counting.

I'm reading modern fairytales and writing books, drawing sets and haircuts. I'm planning CDs and dreams, hoping that I can make ends meet in my mind at the very least. I want my life to be jacaranda blossoms and honeyed tea, wisteria vines that creep and curl, tan horses rolled in dry dust, burnt yellow birds fluttering in sunflowers, broken-glass patios paved with mirrors and rocking chairs, reading and listening rooms that smell like antique stores.

I have dreams of hips and calves, smooth shoulders and arched backs.

I want to be happy when I grow up. Fuck productivity, I want to spread the fire-- Consume and cleanse.