The situation
Two months ago, when it was the week of midterms, my life took a turn for the... well. It took a turn.
It boils down to this: Jer and I are done. Done. As in no longer together.
He didn't boot me out on the street right then and there--he decided that that would be too much of a dick move to pull. It was very nearly mutual, he just beat me to the punch. We both have our reasons. I'm not going to air those here. Needless to say, though, things went downhill pretty rapidly.
The stress and anxiety and depression all mixed together into a concoction that surprisingly didn't land me in the hospital.
My grades suffered for all of it though, evidenced in the fact that I FAILED PROGRAMMING. Okay, technically I got 68.6%, but that doesn't help me much at all.
So I've spent the last two months trying to keep myself together. It's not easy. Being one step away from shattering is not a situation I ever wanted to be back in again. Apparently now I've got two evil exes. Effin' lovely.
And because I was essentially told to GTFO by the end of June, I'm bustin' out. I have an idea of where I'll be ending up, but specifics aren't solid enough yet for me to say one way or the other here.
In the meantime, I'm going to be packing up my belongings--again--and hoping that I don't end up in the hospital between now and the time I leave.
It boils down to this: Jer and I are done. Done. As in no longer together.
He didn't boot me out on the street right then and there--he decided that that would be too much of a dick move to pull. It was very nearly mutual, he just beat me to the punch. We both have our reasons. I'm not going to air those here. Needless to say, though, things went downhill pretty rapidly.
The stress and anxiety and depression all mixed together into a concoction that surprisingly didn't land me in the hospital.
My grades suffered for all of it though, evidenced in the fact that I FAILED PROGRAMMING. Okay, technically I got 68.6%, but that doesn't help me much at all.
So I've spent the last two months trying to keep myself together. It's not easy. Being one step away from shattering is not a situation I ever wanted to be back in again. Apparently now I've got two evil exes. Effin' lovely.
And because I was essentially told to GTFO by the end of June, I'm bustin' out. I have an idea of where I'll be ending up, but specifics aren't solid enough yet for me to say one way or the other here.
In the meantime, I'm going to be packing up my belongings--again--and hoping that I don't end up in the hospital between now and the time I leave.