I haven't been active on here in quite a while. I attended a summer camp that was extremely writing-intensive in 2011, and after sharing my work in front of others, I realized that writing about pain only seems to perpetuate it. The Sylvia Plath kick of 2010 left me in a bruised and battered emotional state, and luckily I escaped with my life at the end of that year. Things are going fine now; no unrequited loves or hipster desires of moonbeams, hipbones, 3 am cigarettes, whatever you kids are writing about these days to fulfill all your egos and secret wishes.
But there's a fine line between writing about pain subjectively and objectively, and I suppose that since the subject is the only constant in any "good" literature/poetry, I'll have to do a better job of separating the two in the future.
Anywho, some background - I'm now an English/psych major at my state's university. Currently finishing up Cartoon Network's Star Wars: The Clone Wars on Netflix and reading Invisible Man at the request of boyfriend. I'm planning on making some art soon, but... you know how plans go (or how they don't, more often).
Eh. More later.
Edit: Oh! And since it's been a while and the lovely tradition of thanking everyone for watches/favorites slipped my mind, thank you for the support. It means a lot to me.