"Fallin Rain" by Karl Blau
September 14, 2020 Monday 3:32 PM
I don't really know what I am intending to write here, lol. In the time I hadn't been writing much, things were okay. I got my sister's car registered in my name, Isaac helped me fix my broken gas door (it has since re-broken, sigh). And yeah. I think I was generally content and not overwhelmed and things were okay, even moving in was fine, and even the stress of the internal conflict in our household (Matt and Nadiya were having a fight, and then Matt and Maria sort of). It is cool how I can barely remember feeling good or okay, and it is only when the bad happens, and then keeps happening, or at least I am sensitive too it and don't have the emotional equivalent to platelets in order to plug up the wound.
Anyway, I feel like shit. I felt better after sobbing it out a couple nights ago, but then I developed a very, very mild temperature yesterday (I was hovering between 99 and 99.4), but I'm back to normal today. However, because I threw up the night before and I had a mild fever and nausea, I got paranoid and so I isolated all day. It was surprisingly... well, isolating. I felt alone, and incredibly suspicious and paranoid. I felt like Matt was taking my friends, or that they felt annoyed having to take care of me, or that everyone thought I was overreacting in general. I wondered myself, and I truly believe I made myself sick with stress. I probably only had a high temperature due to some adrenaline from the fight and anxiety of the day before.
Either way, I feel okay today, just slightly nauseas and kind of wishing the nausea were worse, so I could purge whatever it is inside me that is twining through and around my stomach and heart.
It was already hard enough moving through the quicksand of the day, but then I also found out I didn't get into either of the workshops I applied to... not even on the waitlist. I don't know what I did wrong. How is my writing so poor, that even in my senior year I can't get into a fucking advanced course? There goes any remaining hope I had left for honors. But I probably wasn't going to do it anyways.
I just feel. Lost. And empty. And very on the edge of tears, but annoyed with being on the edge of tears, because I don't feel like crying. I'm nervous because functionally I am only registered for three classes. I'm still trying to get into a VISA advanced drawing course, but with my luck I won't get in and then I will need to scramble for a fourth class or I'll have to take 5 next semester at the risk of death by stress, lmao. I laugh, but really. I haven't been capable of doing more than three classes for two semesters now, and if I don't take 4 classes this semester, then I get put on academic probation.
I'm frustrated, because I am so close to graduating, but I am worried I won't make it?? I just want to throw up and feel better. I feel small and sharp, with a cone-shaped and narrowing field of view, like looking through binoculars backwards. "It's okay," I say, obligatorily. It is not that I don't believe it won't be okay. I guess I just can't fathom any other reality except for this instant. I wish Lancelot would answer my emails. How am I supposed to forgive him if I get angry this time? It's the second time he hasn't answered me after, like, 3 emails over the course of a week. And this time I need info so I can communicate it to the disability services so I can please, please, please have some help.
I'm gonna go now. I don't know what I am going to do, but probably some homework.