Apparently this was my last draft? Huh.
...it's not working anymore.
Nothing. At least no part of me. It seems that I can't survive a single day, let alone a week, without a monumental catastrophe instigated by my own... I don't know, really. I can't pin the ineptitude on a single thing. Like am I even going to be able to graduate? Am I unconsciously self destructing? I don't think so, but I suppose that's why I said unconscious.
It feels like my professor is trying to fail me. I went back to her classes looking for closure. To go back through her class as a seasoned writer who was worthy of at least some respect. And I fail. Every step I take is undermined. Every word I speak is iconoclastic. Worse yet, she makes me feel stupid.
I'm a lot of things, but stupid isn't one of them. Still, I'm finding it harder and harder to stand defiant in the face of such passive aggressively. It works its way through me like Victoria's cold, wet winds. But it doesn't end with her.
It feels like the only time I connect with people--or that they're looking to connect with me--is when I'm running my LARP. I know it's wrong, but I feel it, so is it that wrong? I don't know.
I feel floundering. I feel... like I'm emptying.
I once asked someone who once loved me to tell me what I was like as a child. They said that I was good, but very alone. That I just wanted to be remembered after I was gone. A decade later I near another departure and an even greater divide and feel myself growing alone once more. It feels like crowds are parting before me saying "nothing to see here, move along". It feels like... TS Elliot.
Nothing. At least no part of me. It seems that I can't survive a single day, let alone a week, without a monumental catastrophe instigated by my own... I don't know, really. I can't pin the ineptitude on a single thing. Like am I even going to be able to graduate? Am I unconsciously self destructing? I don't think so, but I suppose that's why I said unconscious.
It feels like my professor is trying to fail me. I went back to her classes looking for closure. To go back through her class as a seasoned writer who was worthy of at least some respect. And I fail. Every step I take is undermined. Every word I speak is iconoclastic. Worse yet, she makes me feel stupid.
I'm a lot of things, but stupid isn't one of them. Still, I'm finding it harder and harder to stand defiant in the face of such passive aggressively. It works its way through me like Victoria's cold, wet winds. But it doesn't end with her.
It feels like the only time I connect with people--or that they're looking to connect with me--is when I'm running my LARP. I know it's wrong, but I feel it, so is it that wrong? I don't know.
I feel floundering. I feel... like I'm emptying.
I once asked someone who once loved me to tell me what I was like as a child. They said that I was good, but very alone. That I just wanted to be remembered after I was gone. A decade later I near another departure and an even greater divide and feel myself growing alone once more. It feels like crowds are parting before me saying "nothing to see here, move along". It feels like... TS Elliot.