During my second semester of college, many harsh events struck me, though I was numb enough to take them well, all things considered. A car crash, my best friend moving away, losing my scholarship due to my collapsing grades, a health decline. During my final days in college, however, the storm finally seemed to be passing. I had done my best to cut my friends off, and this time in my life had a permanent feeling of twilight, like a miserable dawn. I don't recall ever feeling anything but sad in these days, but also always knowing that it was far better than the emptiness and depression I'd been enduring, and thus I felt thankful for that deep sadness. In many ways, I felt like I'd just come up for oxygen, and was left with the task of building a new life from the ashes of the old. I talked to myself a lot in these days, which isn't very surprising, seeing as I strove to spend all of my time alone. Finally having some motivation, I began working on projects feverishly, and was always drawing or writing something. It might have been a bit of a reality withdrawal, but then, it felt like a celebration. But every bit of joy or accomplishment I felt in those days always seemed to be in spite of the world.