(no subject)
Bye, grip on reality. It was comfortable having you around, but now that I have no idea where the fuck you went, I'll just have to stay strong and move on.
Fuck this nonsense. I haven't ever been this awful at not turning assignments and papers in, and it's making me feel physically sick. While I'm a child at all times possible, I'm fairly well organized internally, and shit like this DOES NOT HAPPEN unless I want it too. I'm a lazy motherfucker, but I get my shit done.
This all stems from two papers for two different classes taught by the same professor. Essentially, they are the same class, but one is about Chaucer taught every Tuesday and Thursday, while one is Medieval Literature that is everything not Chaucer, taught only on Tuesdays at night. Cool. Boring. I hate it. I went to my first MidLit class buzzed because Chaucer had raped my mind earlier that same day. I don't do that anymore, but even THEN I knew what was happening around me.
So when exactly did this current paper I'm writing actually become due last Tuesday? I look at the syllabus every fucking day to check this shit out. I don't even have an excuse for this, besides possibly gremlins. And I know that if I try to go talk to her, I'll end up crying and making up some bullshit story (not about gremlins) to get me a couple extra days and half-credit on the paper.
WHY HAS MY BRAIN CRAPPED OUT ON ME NOW, WHEN I'M DOING THE WORST IN SCHOOL I'VE EVER DONE EVER??
It's God. He hates me.
I don't blame him. I hate me right now. Just let me get hit with a lightening bolt already and get it the fuck over with. And if I survive, I have a sweet cocktail story.
Fuck this nonsense. I haven't ever been this awful at not turning assignments and papers in, and it's making me feel physically sick. While I'm a child at all times possible, I'm fairly well organized internally, and shit like this DOES NOT HAPPEN unless I want it too. I'm a lazy motherfucker, but I get my shit done.
This all stems from two papers for two different classes taught by the same professor. Essentially, they are the same class, but one is about Chaucer taught every Tuesday and Thursday, while one is Medieval Literature that is everything not Chaucer, taught only on Tuesdays at night. Cool. Boring. I hate it. I went to my first MidLit class buzzed because Chaucer had raped my mind earlier that same day. I don't do that anymore, but even THEN I knew what was happening around me.
So when exactly did this current paper I'm writing actually become due last Tuesday? I look at the syllabus every fucking day to check this shit out. I don't even have an excuse for this, besides possibly gremlins. And I know that if I try to go talk to her, I'll end up crying and making up some bullshit story (not about gremlins) to get me a couple extra days and half-credit on the paper.
WHY HAS MY BRAIN CRAPPED OUT ON ME NOW, WHEN I'M DOING THE WORST IN SCHOOL I'VE EVER DONE EVER??
It's God. He hates me.
I don't blame him. I hate me right now. Just let me get hit with a lightening bolt already and get it the fuck over with. And if I survive, I have a sweet cocktail story.