My freshman year of college was the loneliest I had ever been in my life. I sought out quiet hobbies to spend all my new alone time with, and revisited an old one from childhood. When I was younger, all I did was draw, all day long, drawing nonsense, nothing ever really great but maybe only occasionally something decent. But my parents saw how much I enjoyed it, and didn't think I was too bad if I practiced more, so they enrolled me a couple of art classes as a child, and bought me nice sketching sets and markers and such. And I kept practicing, up until high school, when I stopped and I don't know why, maybe because I got distracted with other things, people or hobbies? But came the beginning of college and I was back at it, practicing drawing and such... and from where I started, to where I am know, I still think I really come a long way, and I am pretty proud of myself for being consistent with something in my life.