I’ve grown into such a bitter person over the course of these past few months. I blamed all possible avenue of my life which could possibly strip me from the happiness that is no longer flowing through my veins and in the end I was still left with an empty feeling in my chest. I mean how is it humanely possible to be so miserable when you’ve got the world eating out of the palm of your hand? But today it really hit me. As I flipped back and fourth between my history assignment and Facebook, I scanned through the profile of a girl I once went to school with. She’s currently attending my preferred university and had just updated an album which contained her work. And I feverishly clicked through the portraits, illustrations, paintings and began to cry. And I mean really fucking cried. I didn’t hold some stalker-like emotional attachment to this girl, infact I don’t even really know her. But the emptiness that dwelled inside of me became overwhelming and I was no longer oblivious to its source. I re-opened my history essay and stared at the blank word document, having not been able to piece together a paragraph in over 7 hours and there splashed across the screen was the answer to my affliction. What the fuck am I doing? Why am I torturing myself week after week by starving myself of artistic freedom? Why am I paying 30,000 to receive qualifications for a job I absolutely loathe? I need to get out of here. I need to find myself again before I find myself working a 9-5 job I really fucking hate in order to pay the rent. I can’t keep pretending that I’m okay.