vegetarian organic vegetable soup

I have abandoned my ability to write lately. This summer I conceived a wonderful idea for a story and I have yet to really work on it, which I find sad. I am feeling somewhat sick and very tired and I have no interest in doing work right now. What I would really like is some soup actually. So I think I will heat up some soup, bring it back to my laptop and write something...

Vegetarian Organic Vegetable. Oh Meijer.

I feel as though studying in a manner that is primarily about producing work absent of words or explanation has made me less articulate of a person, well at least in the use of prose. I have become infinitely more able to express myself by visual means. I could tell you how I'm feeling through movement or a photograph much more easily than if words were my medium of choice in that moment. I think that with my loss of using the written language to express myself the intellectual standard of my work has faltered.

My emotions hit more high and low peaks because my attempts to talk about things feel inexpressive or lost. I have constantly felt on the verge of tears at the smallest things I hear or see or feel. I feel as though I have to go back and reread passages more than I used to in order to absorb the meaning. Am I reading more complex writings?

I'm not sure who I am anymore, but I know that I am not who I was nor will I ever return down that path. When I look ahead though I am confused by my future. I know I shouldn't understand it, but it makes me question the present and my present actions. For some reason everything feels like a waste of time. It's as if there is a clock I know is ticking down, moving backwards, and I have to hurry so that I can get where I'm going before the time all winds out of it. The problem seems to be that I do not have any idea where it is that I'm headed or when said clock will tick its last moment away. No one is supposed to know that.

My real problem then becomes that my parents are spending upwards of $40,000 a year for me to study at a prestigious school and I would rather go dumpster diving and make clothes out of what I find than go to class. I do like the majority of my classes, but I want the freedom to work on things as I am inspired. Due dates have become eternally frustrating. At the same time, I doubt I'd ever finish anything without them. I have enough different things going on to hold my interest, but there isn't enough time to finish all of them the way I'd like to within the parameters of other people's time.

The other paradox is that once I finally reach a break or the summer I am so worn out that I need a break from constantly doing and when I do have total creative freedom, I don't create nearly as much. What am I doing?