I’ve been in the ashes, singing from the garden

It started as a deep lilac. Tired, relaxed, content, and yearning all at once. I was going home.

The 24 hour journey that I had become accustomed to would finally end, and end for a long period of time. I was here to stay. No more switching between houses, countries, or continents. Breathe.

As the days went by, and my housemates joined me, the deep lilac became a fiery orange. Excitement, love, and passion bubbled out of my being. The house was full again, our eclectic collection of souls humming and singing their own songs came out of hibernation, with a new year twist. We lost a few housemates, and gained a few. With each semester the atmosphere and the songs change just a bit, much like an established DJ with an acclaimed reputation.

Then the bright orange blended into a concentrated ruby, emerald, sapphire, and amethyst. School colors filtered into my vision while the holiday glitter remained. As the semester kicked off busier than ever, life hit me at the speed of light. Thoughts consumed me.

Who had I grown into these 6 weeks away? Who did I want to become this semester? What were my goals?

Over break I had enjoyed being busy. Being busy kept me externally focused, and kept me away from the dark recesses of my mind. While it is a form of aversion, it was one that worked for me. It kept the malicious thoughts at bay. The over-analyzer. The critic. The fearful worry-wart. The drama queen that believed everything I worked for would fall apart and shatter like delicate butterfly wings losing their fairy dust. Yes, keeping busy kept those thoughts as thoughts, and nothing more. I couldn’t dwell on them if I was busy.

So my first goal is this: stay busy this semester.

Go out more. Make more friends. Redecorate your room. Make it cozier and warm. Get a job outside of campus. Keep up with the running team. Try out the Christian club. Lead the culture awareness society with enthusiasm. Hang out with your old people. Love your housemates. Go to church. And don’t forget to wash your dishes.

So dear reader, I end on a mixed note. One of highs and lows. Because I am a Jackson Pollock and a Pablo Picasso blue painting at the moment.


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