19th nervous breakdown
01.14.04 @ 6:40 p.m.
My stomach is a mess because tonight I'm going to call my parents and seriously discuss the way I'm feeling about my major. About hating it so much that it was too hard to keep from starting to cry a little for my own comfort. I don't know why this pressure, which doesn't seem like so much if I try to be objective, is bearing down so very hard on me, but I don't know what to do. I can't imagine being this miserable for eight and a half more weeks without any consolation. And maybe I'll get talked into keeping on keeping on. But I think I need to cry and storm a bit more about it first.
I wonder how many credits I need to be taking to recieve my finanical aid? I wonder if I can just jettison the journalism courses and work mostly this term. My other two classes fill general ed requirements for language and social sciences.
To paraphrase a NaNoWriMo forum name, I hate myself and want to die.
So here I'm feeling totally adrift. That probably doesn't make for good writing, and then Ena inflames my already overactive paranoia by declaring that 'we need to have a talk.' This makes me think I'm getting a lecture by some authority figure by it's phrasing. I think she thinks we don't hang out enough or maybe she's bemused by my sudden idiot nervous breakdown thing I'm going through. She can't be any more surprised by all this than me, I think. It also worries me because many's the time where Ena and I have gotten to talking earnestly, which is almost inevitably ME talking earnestly and eventually crying. I am not fond of amateur psychoanalysis. I don't like that I'm the one who always ends up 'opening up' somehow until something comes up that triggers the oh so easily triggered switch marked 'tears.' Most of the time I don't even understand why they come, because I don't feel like... like I'm feeling anything, really. Just that all of a sudden my throat hurts and there are tears and then it gets worse because then I get angry at myself for being so weak about it all.
Last night I proved my 'genteel form of schizophrenia' theory by venting into fiction. To get myself to fall asleep I wrote out a short dialogue with various fictional characters I've created or fictionalized versions of real people and myself. I can only wish I had real people to rely on rather than taking my problem to the ones that exist only in my mind and on paper.
Let's move out of the scary relms of my mind, yes? (Oh lord, my computer pulling up the Who's "Much Too Much" ("It's muuuuuuch toooooo muuuuuuch toooo beeeeaaaaaaar....") is anything but helpful to my mood right now. Christ.)
Once I did eventually get home from a post-school trip to the Greyhound station and the public library, an odd thing happened. Our fuckwit landlord left big piles of cut limbs and wood all in our lawn after taking down our lovely trees. His wife seems to have taken some of them away, but there are still massive piles of wood around probably infuriating the neighbors and definately infuriating us. Anyway, I was eating lunch and decided to open the curtains just in time to see a girl walking down the sidewalk shouting at a car that was pacing her. Then she jumped up on our lawn (the yard is elevated in the front because this area slopes down toward the west), picked up one of the pieces of wood, and chucked it in front of the car! What the hell! She did it two more times, too, turning our corner. She never came back, and a sense of social responsibility meant I ended up with wet moss/lichen/algae all over my hands because I went out to drag the branches out of the street.
Strange girl.
Did I mention I cut Ena's hair last night? She had it in braids and cut the ends off herself, first. Which was fairly stupid because when she took the braids out, one part of her hair was three inches longer than the other part. So I ended up fixing it up for her. (I'm reminded because the two ends she cut, still bound with hairbands, are sitting on the kitchen table with the scissors.
Anyway, now I'm going to kill more time while I try to figure out what the hell I'm going to say to my parents.
Previously
fuck it @ 08.01.05
fanciful imaginary sea voyages to come @ 07.20.05
*dies* @ 07.19.05
more ootp @ 07.17.05
harry potter: driving our children into devil worship @ 07.17.05
