And it's only monday.
Monday, 04/26/04 - 10:04 pm.

I swear I thought this moment of the day would never arrive. This moment in which I could finally sit and be alone, without the burden of the worst midterm my university self has ever known. Right now I'm shaking, my shoes are wet, my head hurts, and I'm worried about the grade I might get.

I had my Methodology of Investigation midterm this evening. I guess I should start by telling that today I didn't wake up very cheery, so I wasn't in the mood to read about stuff I don't even understand.

There's something in my subconscious that's sucking up so much energy from me I just can't move. This'd better be serious, or else my psyche has a lot to explain, I wrote on my journal.

This morning I woke up to the image of me dying. I sort of wanted to die. And I was...shaking. Not really shaking, but I thought I was going to start shaking in any second. I was anxious, I was all knots. I was so tired I couldn't concentrate, so I gave up studying by 10 am. I just couldn't and didn't want to move. At times I felt like crying, but mostly I just wanted to get the weight of the midterm off my back.

In the afternoon I acted as if midterms didn't exist. I just couldn't be bothered with opening the book. I'd purely and simply given up. I hate that subject so much, I just don't understand it (hence why I hate it). I was so discouraged and scared, and yet I just didn't care about it.

And I just realized I haven't eaten since lunch. I completely forgot to have supper (a granola bar). I'm hungry. But since I've gained weight lately and I'm so disappointed in myself, I'm going to take the food away. I'm not going to die of a night of starvation.

I'm not really sure about the grade I'll get. I succesfully failed a few questions. I just can't tell...I'm hopeful. But I still want to cry, because I couldn't stand seeing my average drop one single point. I can't afford that. My good grades are the only good thing I have, they're my only talent, and they include the things I *think* I'm mildly good at: reading, writing and analyzing. If I lose that, I'll be just...garbage. I wouldn't stand feeling any lamer than I already am right now.

I'm too tired to even think about tomorrow's lab. I haven't prepared any material and it's so much I'm going to explode in tears. I hate them, we're not supposed to have any extra activities during midterm week. I'm tired. I feel like killing myself, just out of academical desperation.

Tonight's midterm took me longer than I thought. My dad is always waiting for me at 8 o'clock, and I finished at 8:30. To make it all worse, it was raining. It was pouring. The "the midterm took me longer than I thought" excuse was a good one (and it's true, anyway) and it saved me from being scolded by my dad for not letting him know I'd take longer. I did know. But I completely forgot. Just don't tell my dad.

I haven't felt this unhappy, overwhelmed, desperate, unsure, scared and tired in a long, long time.

Last night I dreamed of something that I thought was very meaningful. I'd moved into a new house of two stories, in the shape of a U, kind of (if you saw it from above). The house was just a wood skeleton, though, like it was unfinished. Or maybe it was after a fire. I don't know. Some wood columns were already painted in white.

I was in a room, the one that'd be my bedroom. And I had feelings for a boy. The boy showed up at the house, climbing up to the second story (where I was) using a ladder. But he climbed to the part of the house that was parallel to where I was. I smiled, because I was in love with him. And we'd just broken up. When I saw him climbing up I thought he was here to tell me he was sorry for leaving me, and that he wanted to stay with me.

But he only waved at me with indifference, and started to carry blankets on his shoulders. And he climbed down. And then he climbed back up to get more blankets, to carry them down. It was like he was moving out of a house that wasn't even finished (or had partially burned down).

I saw him do that, and I looked at my wrist. In real life, I have a few scars from the last time I cut there. In the dream, those scars started to open and bleed a lot. I ran to get tissues (I use tissues to dry my blood and clean the wounds) and I put them on my wrist. And then I woke up.

And I couldn't help thinking what it meant. The house? After a lot of thought, I supposed the half-built/half-destroyed house was just my life right now. My life in college seems emptier than my life in school, in a way. But hey, this house had two stories and it was bigger. I tend to think that means that, although it's unfinished, incomplete, it's still kind of cool (back in my days of consumerism, I used to think two-story houses were SO cool). My life in college, although unfulfilling in many ways, it's great. It's different, not quite better. But it's a change. You know, like when you move into a new house. Which is what I did in my dream.

The boy is obviously the boys I talked about yesterday, specially D. I kind of hope he'll come back, I kind of hope he will be sorry for doing what he did to me. But he's just making clear he won't help me with the house (my life right now). I'm all by myself (I saw him today, by the way, leaving the campus in his car...I can't make up my mind on whether I want to be noticed or unnoticed).

The opening scars mean obviously the pain that comes and goes. I forget for weeks about all feelings, but suddenly the past catches up with me and I get all tearful and sad. Just when I think I've healed, the scar opens and bleeds again.

My text book asked: how do you know your dreams have been interpreted correctly?. The answer: if the interpretation satisfies you, most likely you're right. I am satisfied with my interpretation. Thank you, self.

I saw Cel today. Talking to the guy I have a crush on. I've talked about him, it's DenimJacketGuy, or just Trent (because he looks like Daria's Trent).

I saw him several times today, and most of times he was saying hi to girls, and giving them hugs. One thing that bothered me is that he was talking to a girl I was once friends with (she got kicked out of school in 7th grade, it's not like we had a fight that finished our friendship). I felt kind of jealous. "Dude, she's not your type...she's really nice, but I'm more rock-n-roll than her". But she's cuter, anyway.

But as much as I like him, I do not want to meet him. I think I don't belong to his type. Say I do meet him...what if my crush for him gets stronger? How awful. I would feel insignificant and worthless. And I'd hate it if my crush on him disappeared, too. I can't win.

I'm seriously thinking of cutting tonight...but most likely I won't. I couldn't put up an existentialist fight with myself right now, I lack the energy. I lack the self.

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