Rambles for the Weak (pun)
3:20am, March 15, 2017
So, I have a 3-page paper due in class at 8am and I'm only a page and a half in. Progress, I guess. I spent the last few days studying up on what all these numerical tests that I'm doing right now are supposed to mean. I've been reading the same 3 pages again and again and I think I know enough to bullshit 3-pages. I also realized that inserting a table with all the values I calculated took up an entire half of a page so yay.
I may or may not be able to pass chemistry. It's all up to my final grade and to be honest, I've never been great at chemistry and I'm scared (lol). But, the kind of scared that just wants to cry and die (not in a dramatic way, but you know what I mean). The hardest thing about college is probably realizing that I don't feel as good as I used to about myself.
One thing I can say for sure is that of all my professors, my chemistry professor is the only one who genuinely cares about student mental health.
"Come to my office hours! You can talk about anything! Why do we only need to talk about chemistry? Life is not about studying. You study, study, study, but you never learn anything about life. All you care about are grades but what good are grades when you are out there in the real world....etc etc etc"
Lowkey funny and ironic how the man who's literally killing me softly with his exams is also the one reaching out to genuinely help.
Anyways, I just deleted like 5 depressing paragraphs and writing this instead.
On a somewhat brighter note, Exo is life (fact. proven.)
Ps: I'm about 10 rows from reach page 3. It's 5am.
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update: 3/15/2017
It's 6pm. I submitted my work nearly 12 hours ago and honestly, it's trash. I wouldn't be surprised if my professor throws it away. It's t-r-a-s-h.
Anyways, on to contemplating about things.
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update: 3/16/2017
I feel like I've given up already lol... I don't know.
Studying at the library now. I'm tired, hungry, but I just want to go to the dollar store and do some errands. Wink wonk.
It's honestly really hard not to have a purpose in life because it feels like nothing matters, like you're just running place, not getting anywhere. Every morning you wake up, do the same thing, nothing new happens, nothing interesting, go to sleep. Again. Again. Again.
Sometimes I just want something to happen to me. As bad as that sounds, I kind of hope I get hit by a car. Or something. You know all those people who attempt suicide or have something traumatic happen to them and live to talk about it? How it basically gives them a shot of life back into their entire existence. Like, for some reason, they have a new sense of purpose. Sometimes, I just feel like I'm no better than a body in the ER that needs to be rescusitated. That's how mentally dead I feel.
I mean, there are passing moments when I'm happy.
Insert life:
- Playing with my pets
- Spending time with my family
- Writing stories
- Drawing / painting / anything crafty
- Interacting with readers and talking about story plots
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update: 3/18/2017
I've cried more this week than I usually do in a month or two. Bubbles sleeps through it so I just hug him because for some reason, the fact that he's alive has always fascinated me. Actually, the fact that animals exist to live is so nice. It's cute.
Sometimes I stare at Bubbles (my cat if you didn't know) while he's sleeping and he seems happy. And fluffy. And warm. He's alive.
I don't know much about biology being that I hate it but there's something about it that amazes me. Beyond science, sometimes I just look at something and wonder.... how?
Bubbles has (what I call) "Tiger stripes". There are parts of his fur that's darker than others and when you look at him as a whole, his fur creates that tiger-like pattern. Those stripes.... And it's so amazing how there's such a thing as genetics. That the genes that create his fur color dark turn off and on to make him orange and dark orange--and WHITE.
And then there's the fact that little cells make up his little heart and how everything about this fat cat that I love so much is made up of small molecules that somehow gave me this thing to love.
Why did I go on a rant about my cat? I don't know lol... But I've given up on my life for the most part so to see a creature like him alive and living and functioning as he was created to do is just beautiful.
Because sometimes I look in the mirror and I don't see myself alive. But when I look at my pets whether it's Bubbles, Nugget, or Jolli, I'm reminded in the simplest form what life is.
EDIT:
Animals make me happy. They give you a sense of purpose, you know? Feed them. Take care of them... And they love you. No matter how muchI struggle, no matter how many times I'm driving home from college, thinking about how easy it'd be to swerve right and hit the guard rail on the highway, I remind myself that whenever I get home and I open the door, Nugget will run up to me and act as if I haven't been there in forever even though I was home the weekend before.
Animals might not understand how heavy your burdens are. They may know that they're there, but they don't know specifically what's bothering you. But pets will always see you as the best version of yourself.
Maybe someday I'll see myself the way Nugget sees me. The bestest person in her black and white world.