As a freshman in college, I expected life to be insurmountably difficult. I didn’t expect that I would still have the time for the little things, the things I love doing and what I find joy in. My life isn’t difficult. I have strict parents and have the privilege, in a way, of commuting - driving to school. That is, being driven there. I don’t work, or want for anything; that’s all taken care of for me. In the average student’s life, I may sound spoiled: I don’t have to juggle work and school, or strain to make ends meet. And I acknowledge this, that I’m fortunate to have supportive parents that pretty much take care of the Big Things. But it was the little things that worried me.

I heard people telling me: when you go to college, you’ll never have time to be YOU anymore. No more life, or hobbies (and partying and alcohol are strictly out of bounds - strict parents and my own moral code has filed that under Taboo.) I’ve never had to worry about finding time for homework during work, but I wondered if I’d lose my passion for writing and art. I’m taking two advanced English courses, one of which I read pre-nineteenth century literature for. And I love it. I get to read lots and write lots - exactly what I love doing. And on top of that? I do have the time to do what I love: to curl up on the couch with a book, to draw and doodle designs or practice my henna skills, to write and write and write poetry and spill my heart out on cheap notebook pages. Yeah. College is treating me well, so far. Now off to do contemporary poetry homework ..and daydream a little.

excuse my messy sheets -a secretly (sometimes)tidy person.