♥ Blackheart ♥

Update and Apology

You really must read this, even if you just read the few bottom paragraphs!!

*Exhales* Hello old friends. Interestingly enough, writing this is extremely difficult. I'm engulfed by a variety of emotions. Sadness, regret, disappointment, but also gratefulness. And hope, it sits on my chest like a small ray of light.

You see, I'm sure you're thinking I've forgotten about this. That I've forgotten about Wattpad. Gone and done something completely different with my life. Well I haven't, I check Wattpad almost daily. It rests on my favourites tab, emanating a quaint orange glow. Beckoning me back to it. I don't know why I do this to myself, it hurts. But I just want to reach my hand out to grab it's opportunity.

So believe me, I have not forgotten. I haven't forgotten Wattpad, and I haven't forgotten Blackheart, and I most certainly haven't forgotten you.

I think it'd best to get this off my chest as truthfully as I can.

Let me explain, where I've been and what I've been doing. How I am now too. Firstly, here's my story. I quit Highschool as soon as I was 16. With just the base qualifications. I went to college instead, I quite liked art and did it in my spare time. It was my thing. So naturally, I chose the only art course I saw available. It was illustration and tattoo design. Tattoo designs? No, no I wasn't actually interested in that.

I was blinded. I thought it'd be fun, yes that was an immature thought of mine. But I was 16. I don't hate myself for that worldview, I'd just come out of highschool. I couldn't even imagine what "real life" would be like. And I detest the education system for doing that to me. As well as being the worst time in my life, they also kept me from the real world. I feel like my time has been stolen.

Continuing though, the course wasn't what I thought it would be. There were three sketchbooks I was assigned. Later, I was to learn that they were each for three separate aspects of work. However for the first 6 weeks or so, everything was hazy. The teacher was far too laid-back, lessons were unstructured. To be blunt, she was previously an art teacher for prisoners. Now I know what you're thinking, cold stern and strict. Actually she wasn't, she was carefree, relaxed and overfriendly. Very hippie-like. And unfortunately, personally I strongly dislike overfriendly people. It makes me uncomfortable. Well regardless, for around 6 weeks or longer. Those three sketchbook's works were unbeknownst to me. And that strongly hindered my progress. I wasn't doing well. That course stiffled my creativity. I stopped drawing in my own time. I began to feel hatred for it. Mentally I was extremely depressed. I had to get a bus to college every day when I was used to a mere 15 minute walk to my school. Problem is, I didn't feel ready for it. I know I was already 16, but I didn't feel capable. I got lost in random towns a few times and I was almost an hour away from home for three days every week. Whilst my old peers, as much as I hate them, were in school. I wasn't jealous of them, but I was jealous of the stability. I didn't feel like I had much control. I felt weak and helpless. I began to face paranoia and fear that I would get lost again. It had happened before and I wasn't familiar with the area. I was terrified about losing my bus ticket, or my money and not being able to go back home.

In my home life, it's just me and my single Mum. Also my little sister, my cat Katie. We don't have a car or lots of family. Our family are far away too and we're not close. So I couldn't just pick up the phone and get my Mum to come and get me. I always had these thoughts in the back of my mind. Constantly paranoid, about getting the bus too. It occasionally didn't even stop for me, and so my funding for that week was stopped. I had 7 days worth of sick days.

My depression got worse as I continue to go there. The town was awful too. The most miserable, poverty stricken nightmare I've ever had the misfortune of visiting. I'm in no way saying poverty stricken in a derogatory way. Trust me I'm not even middle class. But visiting such a dreary place started tearing at my soul piece by piece as well. I began using up those sick days pretty quickly. Eventually using them all. And I missed a lot of time, I took extra time off. I missed out even more. I knew I couldn't keep up. The sketchbooks were never completed and I ended up coming in on the last day, handing in my sketchbooks late. Other classmates were getting their qualification handed to them on special pieces of paper. Everyone got them as though it were a breeze. And then that was it, I never heard from the college about that again. They never even marked them since they weren't complete. I never got a qualification. Caught up with quite a  lot of disappointed in myself. I was glad to just finally go home though.