It’s been 919 days since my last day of school. Two and a half years. That’s a long time, at least for someone my age. I dropped out in the middle of the year. At first it wasn’t even dropping out it was just a break, sick leave. But then the school year ended, and I hadn’t had the opportunity to come back yet. I guess that makes it dropping out.
This was some kind of boarding school, and it was at night it happened. Some friends of mine was worried, and it ended up with the house matron (wtf, this doesn’t translate very well) calling an ambulance. So I rode into the dark winter night with a colorful summer dress on, I didn’t even bring socks or a toothbrush or even my phone. I suppose this was the start of the hospitalization-hell that became my life the following years.
Since this happened school’s been so far away from my life. I haven’t been heading anywhere. Or that’s what it’s felt like at least. It’s been 919 days since my last day of school, but tomorrow I’m starting again. And hell I don’t feel like I’m heading anywhere now either. This course I’m taking is far away from studying full-time, or even half-time. I’m not gonna be something at the end of this. But if I take a moment to think about what I’ve just written … If I give myself some slack and acknowledge the struggle therapy and getting better is: Oh hell yeah I’m heading somewhere! The few hours I’m gonna sit in that library tomorrow is more than enough proof that this isn’t only hospitalization-hell anymore.
It’s definitely still a struggle, but now there’s another side to it as well. Wish me luck.