I don’t hold any illusions about my writing. I’m out of practice, and it certainly shows; my vocabulary is shot and my grammar is off. My sentences are stilted, and my prose is sloppy at best. That’s fine with me for now, simply because the words are there. It’s still a struggle to reach for them at times, but they’re there. The rest will fall into place.

I keep coming back to this; I cannot believe I forgot about writing, and books. I’ve been writing for me, for fun, for as long as I can remember. In 8th grade I started filling up the ‘elusive’ notebooks and now there are 57 of them in a box at home. I have a computer full of novels and short stories and essays and papers I wrote for no reason other than there was a topic I wanted to comment on.

I always thought I’d wind up taking Literature and writing courses in college, but that intention got lost in the shuffle. After transferring I turned into Miss Overachieving Government Major who was going to have two minors and do a joint degree program in Law and International Affairs after college. I never used to have a problem saying ‘screw it’ to what I was ‘supposed’ to be doing and yet I’ve been caught in that mindset for two years.

I know part of that’s been some twisted attempt to prove something to Ryan; being a clichéd ‘good student’ was the only thing he would have respected in high school, I think part of me believed that turning myself into one in college would garner some respect. (Which was completely wrong, because I don’t think Ryan ever respected anything I did anyway) So I traded supposed slacker-dom for overachievement. I traded my Mead Spiral Notebooks for Five Stars filled with OCD notes. I wasn’t faking reality; I really did love most of my classes, and never felt like I was compromising. I just … forgot.

It didn’t help, I suppose, that Ryan never took any of this seriously. In high school, his response when we first started dating was something along the lines of; ‘Oh you like to write? That’s cute.” And then  “I get straight A’s in calculus without trying, and you can’t even get a B in Algebra II?”

I didn’t meet his standards for ‘intelligent’ with a mediocre class rank and no AP physics on my record. I ditched class. I refused my acceptance to National Honor Society. I argued with teachers I didn’t agree with. I drove around with Brent for hours on end after school talking  instead of doing my homework. Ryan  thought I was stupid and there was nothing I could do to prove otherwise and after awhile, it just got easier to let him think that. I got sick of fighting fights I could never win, sick of trying to patiently explain why he was wrong when he’d make ridiculously uninformed and near offensive statements.

For four years I have never been ‘allowed’ to be right about anything. Never mind the fact that I practically wrote his philosophy papers for him freshman year of college because he couldn’t answer the most basic of questions. Never mind the fact that I probably read more in one year then he will in his life.

Brent once told me that I have incredible drive. When I see something I want I pursue it with all my energy. I throw myself into things and have been called crazy for my ability to manage ten things at once and barely blink. That’s why I’m thinking this isn’t crazy. I can say fuck law school.

I’m looking outward now, in a different way than I was as little as 3 months ago. 3 months ago, I thought I would marry Ryan, because I didn’t think to see any other choice. I thought I’d apply to law school, because, what else was I going to do. I thought I’d go to DC this summer, because I got the internship, so why wouldn’t I go?

I don’t know what I want to do, but I don’t want any of that.

I’ll graduate in January.

I’ll do what I have to do to feed myself.

I will write my life story one day at a time. It will be a damn good one.