(no subject)
ALRIGHT. ALRIGHT.
I'M UNGRATEFUL!
So Haley and I were lying down and chatting over her Ariel pillows and she was being a Capricorn and I was being an Aquarius, and it pains me that the antidote to the disease is at hand - everyone can see it, I can see it - yet I'm not brave enough to take it because of its bitter taste.
The bitter taste of sleep.
I hear stories from Katie and Matt about their passion for their classes- god knows they've worked to get to where they are, and maybe that's what makes their wonder that much greater.
Dad practically tied me to the Ewok and drove me to college himself. I didn't want to go immediately, but I didn't want to be left behind, so I let him.
Now I find I'm even more left behind.
Perhaps it was the immediate bashing freshman year gave me - and there I was, determined to overcome, to prove them all wrong.
Now I'm just proving them right.
I don't want to be here. I'm nothing here, and it's my fault.
The only class that has worked its spell upon me this semester is Medieval Lit, and truth be told, it's one of the few I kept. In that class, I get a whiff of the passion I want so badly to swell within me until I'm brimming with it, utterly contagious. The last time I talked to the Lady she told me that I can't expect people to give me passion, that sometimes I have to create it myself.
I used to be able to do that. I used to glare at people in math classes who said, "Why do we need to know this shit?" Because I would be thinking, "Simply to know - because we can, because we have the ability, because we're blessed (in the most non-religious sense of the word) to be able to."
Now I sit in class and watch the clock and will it to move quickly.
And before class, I watch the clock, and will it move more slowly.
And at night, when I'm dreading tomorrow, I will it to stop entirely.
I had this idea that I was going to save the world, and I can't even save myself from drowning.
I should be grateful to be here.
Why does the very mention of class nauseate me? What the hell am I sick with? Why do I feel burnt out when I've barely begun?
I'm keep begging for time to bow to my wishes, and while I'm on my knees, it's wasting away.
I'M UNGRATEFUL!
So Haley and I were lying down and chatting over her Ariel pillows and she was being a Capricorn and I was being an Aquarius, and it pains me that the antidote to the disease is at hand - everyone can see it, I can see it - yet I'm not brave enough to take it because of its bitter taste.
The bitter taste of sleep.
I hear stories from Katie and Matt about their passion for their classes- god knows they've worked to get to where they are, and maybe that's what makes their wonder that much greater.
Dad practically tied me to the Ewok and drove me to college himself. I didn't want to go immediately, but I didn't want to be left behind, so I let him.
Now I find I'm even more left behind.
Perhaps it was the immediate bashing freshman year gave me - and there I was, determined to overcome, to prove them all wrong.
Now I'm just proving them right.
I don't want to be here. I'm nothing here, and it's my fault.
The only class that has worked its spell upon me this semester is Medieval Lit, and truth be told, it's one of the few I kept. In that class, I get a whiff of the passion I want so badly to swell within me until I'm brimming with it, utterly contagious. The last time I talked to the Lady she told me that I can't expect people to give me passion, that sometimes I have to create it myself.
I used to be able to do that. I used to glare at people in math classes who said, "Why do we need to know this shit?" Because I would be thinking, "Simply to know - because we can, because we have the ability, because we're blessed (in the most non-religious sense of the word) to be able to."
Now I sit in class and watch the clock and will it to move quickly.
And before class, I watch the clock, and will it move more slowly.
And at night, when I'm dreading tomorrow, I will it to stop entirely.
I had this idea that I was going to save the world, and I can't even save myself from drowning.
I should be grateful to be here.
Why does the very mention of class nauseate me? What the hell am I sick with? Why do I feel burnt out when I've barely begun?
I'm keep begging for time to bow to my wishes, and while I'm on my knees, it's wasting away.