I spent the whole summer pretending I finally knew who I was. Today, I looked in the mirror and realized I have no clue who the fuck I've become. Which is strange, considering the difference between this year and last year. My freshman year was characterized by dependency, confusion, and a plundering desire for love. Anything I could latch onto, I would. Anyone I knew, I wanted to love just so I could be convinced my love wasn't lost. Now things have turned the other direction, but I'm not sure if that makes my mental state any better. I've figured things out. I'm no longer dependent on anyone really. Not to mean I don't care about people, of course, I just don't have that "live with them or die alone" complex. The confusion isn't gone, but rather accepted. I'm not trying to sort out my emotions or the actions of others. Fuck that. Confusion is a big part of the universe and the only part I actually like. As for love, I don't even care. Everything is far too disposable at this point in everyone's lives. If it happens it happens and if it doesn't, I can't lose sleep over it.

But still. Now I feel more empty than ever. It's like accepting everything as it is and merely analyzing it instead of having an emotional reaction makes me feel translucent. I need a passion for something, or to believe in something. Everything that I genuinely love, like photography, is vastly inhibited by this environment I'm in. All I know is that I can be something better. And fuck it, I will.