I do not like February. I hated it with a vehemace. If there was a catalyst for negative change in my life, that would be it. I stopped reading. I stopped writing. I turned to my watercolors but I found my colors dull and lifeless, my ink staining pages with macabre. It was an effort to paint with bright reds, blues, and yellows.

It was an awful month, despite the exciting adventures I squeezed in it like sardines in a can. Too many depressing things that I could have very well just had without. This is why I miss high school. Life was simpler.

Hopefully, March is brighter — and the months that will follow after.

I am looking forward to classes in summer.