Like most people, I find it hard to let go, and I find it easiest when I’m forced to move on.

At the beginning of my New York pursuit after an unfulfilled year at school, repping the “college dropout” title and reminiscing on what was, or could have been, I decided that the images in my head were to be put to use. My brain functions off of pigmented imagery. At times of hope and beauty, the imagery can be bright and colorful, red, yellow, and blue. In my turmoil, the imagery is dangerously earthy and grey like Oregon skies, forests, and beaches. Reflecting on my experience at school after spending almost a year playing blind to the thought, I realized I lost a lot of myself in the parties, drinks, weed, and most importantly, boys. I served them parts of me, and they ate me whole in my willing betrayal of myself. I’m hard on myself, yes, but the images playing in my head of lovers’ beds and late-night tears remind me of the bravery it takes to save oneself at the expense of learning and living. The images are Corvallis green, Atlantic blue, and late-night purple. Coming out on the other side of it all, I still forget how easy it is to say, “I knew better”, but in that moment, my only solitude in the college town from Hell was through the park, around the corner, across the street, and up ‘till the sidewalk ends.