n/a

I've considered writing more in this.

Consideration is a funny thing when all is said and done. It's just an another name for opinion. I keep listening to Sam Malone on repeat because it's a 4:43 summary of me (lately). I can't tell if my escapism is rooted in seasonal depression or in true desire. Probably some of both, to be honest.

The leaves just need to change their color and fall to the ground.

I keep trying to figure finances for next year in Bloomington. I haven't asked my grandfather for any money yet and probably won't bring it up until I figure as much out for myself as I can. I can't stay here though. There aren't enough opportunities for me to expand, South Bend is dead and so is everything around it. I'm not hoping for Bloomington to be the godsend I might portray it as, but I can't stay here.

In the end, I'm probably fucked.