☼ Find Me, Fix Me

I'm seriously screwed.
I'm going to bomb that physics test.
I have no motivation to do anything right now.
*&^(*&@#$IYEGQIUYD*I#&@YE(&#@*$&

Sigh...
My stomach still hurts no matter how much I eat, and head still hurts even if I take Tylenol or Advil.
Not that they were ever effective...
I can't think straight. I can't remember what we learned the past week.

I know I'll end up failing everyone who cares for me.
So....Sorry.
 
 

I don't what's been happening...
All I know is that things have to get better.
Sometimes I'm tired of being silent. Sometimes I'm tired of being the dead end that people can use. Sometimes I'm tired of keeping secrets. I'm not talking about one thing. There are a few secrets that I must keep.
It's for the best.

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Right Now
Fort Minor (feat. Black Thought of the Roots and Styles of Beyond)
 


 

We don't sleep to dream
We sleep to build stamina
Energy to do our thing
Get your camera
Cuz this ride is about to begin
Sit down, and buckle it in
Let me say it again

when happiness doesn't work...
 
...
I did better on the EOC than I had thought. I thought I bombed the essay-writing portion. Because I literally (figuratively - ha, what a concept, literally figuratively) just threw a bomb onto the sheet of paper and just waited to see what happens. No planning whatsoever. I think we had to write about a day in which a historical figure came to the present and what we would do with them. Something like that. I could've worded it better though. Anyways, I got 248.

Chasing Cars - Snow Patrol
 


 

So much crap to do. I feel so stupid with my whining. It's probably only going to get worse.
And all I can do is stare stupidly at the present speeding off into the distance, leaving me in a cloud of dust and confusion and helplessness, and a broken rope in my hand, frayed and tired for having to pull my deadweight. There's no rush of wind, no whistling of the wind as it grazes past my ears, no thrill of the ride of being present, there's no blood pumping through my veins in that crazy rhythm. All I can do is blink and stare blankly, wondering what happened and when that rope broke, and when this wagon I am standing on will finally slow to a stop...or if I'll fall off before that happens.
This is just my melodramatic way of saying that I feel tired, and there's so much work to do, and I feel lost at where to start.
There's probably no satisfaction from it, but perhaps only the protection of my pride and stubbornness.