so I finally made up my mind permanently, no holds barred.
I am going to the School of the Art Institute of Chicago this coming fall.

damnit, I'm gonna miss him. I miss him right now. Why does this have to happen to me at the end of my high school career?

But there will be more beautiful boys in Chicago, and they'll be artists (even though it hasn't even put me off that he isn't an artist, or a drug addict, or insane) and I'll start my barista bohemian poor-as-fuck life.

maybe we'll meet again, maybe we'll stay in touch, maybe... I don't even want to think about it actually. ignore my madness.

yey for art school, yey for fingerpainting and making my own dresses and smelling like coffee all the time. yey for finally getting the fuck out of kentucky.