get grown

There is a very specific rush to be had from staying up all night, doing something creative (especially when you make something you are pleased with). I fell into bed covered in chalk pastel, black hands, listening to the birds start to come out. I am now awake only a few hours later. It's going to be a whirlwind, these last few days.

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It's unfortunate, sure, but one of the soundtracks to these years will be listening to my suite mates make themselves vomit in the bathroom.

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I'm supposed to do a salt water flush this morning. I am terrified. If you want to vomit like my suitemates, you can look at the photo gallery. That is terrifying. I will probably buy it because I like to torture myself.

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"Looking for j/o buddy. No gay shit."