On greasy hair, atomic bomb and "fucking it".

The last weeks of my life had been simply awful – uncertainty about my future and no being able to make a decision of any kind had been tearing me apart. Constant race of mainly negative thoughts made me honestly willing to blow my head off.

The only problem was – I didn’t have a gun. And if I decided to slice my wrists instead, in a romantic red hot bathtub  way – well, boiler breakdown lasting a couple of days made it impossible as well. Do you recall ever standing in a queue before those greasy haired people smelling like shit and buying cigarettes with a handful of change? Yep, I was forced to become one of those people. No hot water meant no heating at all so I covered my shame with double sweaters, triple socks, duvet, blanket and a cosy bath robe.

And felt even more shit about to go down. Of course I was right. Being blind enough not to find my own Super 8 footage among all the other digitalized work I emailed my tutor. He said that some film came back black so the lab didn’t even bother to telecined them.

I used non water proof mascara that morning to avoid crying in public again and on a short walk back I came to the point of : “Fuck it, I’m dropping out anyway.” To be honest, that idea was in the corner of my mind for some time now, but till that moment it was successfully kept there by marathons of House and Boardwalk Empire (I fell in love with that show!)

The thing is – I’ve never been proud of my uni work. Never.

-Mom, would you still love me if I dropped out?

-How are you planning to pay for that?

-Thanks Mom.

I hung up busted into tears –in my very own room - calmed myself down and rang again. She had been unexpectedly helpful going over my possible options. I fell asleep exhausted.

Next morning was the first calm one that I could remember – all the tension was gone and the pressure I usually put myself under finally manageable. It felt as if a huge atomic bomb fell down on me and instead used it’s energy not to destroy anything but to charge my batteries. I didn’t even need a coffee to think straight. I went to uni, found the footage in the same place it was the previous day  and smiled.

After the final collapse of that perfectly crafted idea of what I thought I wanted for myself I am free.

I can pick and choose next moves in my life and I’m finally brave enough to do it.

And it feels fucking awesome!

P.S. I've just finished the final version of the film I was supposed to make. The worst piece of shit in my life. Fuck it, I just want to complete the year anyway.