A change of scenery

A lot's changed over the past two months. Don't get me wrong -- it's all been for the best, I think. I don't know that anything else could've pulled me out of that rut. (so why am i still stuck?)

I got permission for a medical withdrawal from all my courses this term at the suggestion of my professors, who wanted me to focus more on getting well. All in all, things have been improving... but I'm still not stable.

Thomas flew out from Indiana to look at apartments with me in early February. I fell in love with the Cyan building in downtown Portland and applied with my daddy as a co-signer. We moved in on the 24th, with only a handful of bags and some unassembled tables we bought from IKEA.

We also adopted a cat -- a 6-month-old domestic shorthair from the Multnomah County Animal Shelter I got attached to the day we met him. The name they had given him was Avery, but I thought he looked more like a Higgins, so that's what we call him now. This kitty is currently vying for my attention, so I suppose I can type up more later.

Staring at a grey city sky

I guess I sometimes wonder why I can't get myself to care at all enough. I imagine what it would be like if I could wake every morning filled with energy and feeling renewed with life -- I could meet people, do things, make a difference in the world. I could learn new things. I could have new experiences, or reminisce about old ones with old friends around places we all remember growing up. I could feel connected with people, connected with the world. And I could be happy.

And yet this stigmatized illness leaves me staring at the sunless sky while all that was once so dear (and in all reality, still is and will always, always be) to my heart drifts by; I dream without sleeping.