School’d.

Y’all I really hate wordpress. I played with a couple other leading contenders and honestly. Everything is shit.

Anyway. That’s not the point of this post.

Let’s start over.

Hey.

It’s September and I’m still lacking verifiable life skills. I’m in my second semester back in school and I’ve dropped two courses already. It’s too late to drop these other two. I’m three weeks behind in one. I don’t think I’ve learned anything in the other. I’ve got another course starting in a couple weeks.

Is Financial Aid gonna hate me? Probably. I feel like being able to tell when I need to quit and run is a huge development for me. I am not healthy enough to grin and get through the classes I dropped. I know this. One was three nights a week. What was I thinking? Three days a week? With strangers? Speaking a FOREIGN LANGUAGE?

See, the thing is, I’m not entirely sure Financial Aid gives a shit about the positive ability to drop classes before I fail them. But, maybe they won’t care. idk. I was full time in college for a whole two fucking weeks.

Let me start over, y’all.

It’s August. Class hasn’t started yet. I’m finishing up summer classes. Your bitch has two A’s. Bitch who? Bitch, me, that’s who. I preorder my books for next semester. I unwrap them (oops). I’m fucking ready for this shit. I’m totally ready to be prepared.

Two weeks pass.

Yeah, nothing happened.

Classes start. That same week we’re overnight at work. Every night. I’m dead tired. My sleep is all sorts of fucked up. I have no. energy. My skin is basically bubbling at this point. No amount of charcoal or clay slathered is going to cure this. I’m negative and antsy and awkward and weak. Normally, this shit would be fine.

But classes have started. Three days in a row, I’m dead. I don’t understand what she’s saying. Everyone else is way more prepared then me. What the fuck have I done? I unwrapped the shits! I at least read like, two pages. This syllabus is confusing as fuck. Syllabi are not meant to be confusing. I can’t read anymore. I’ve lost my ability to use my eyes. They’re melting out of my skull. My brain, too. The resulting sludge is the color of pink erasers and it is all over the desk.

I get to Saturday. Class is at 11 am. It’s 5 hours long (including a lab requirement). I’d just been at work until 3. I have had nothing to eat since Thursday, because I was in bed all day Friday until work, and everything is fucking closed. The teacher is bland and monotone. He tells us his professional history as if this is a job interview. Somewhere in there, he wants us to be impressed. Not because he wishes to be hired, but because he hopes this validation will make up for his lack of personality.

I sit in the back. There are four rows, three tables each, two chairs per table. The tables are that science room material that takes every handprint, as if every transference of heat and moisture is taking your soul with it, right through the pores of your palms. The front row is all girls. They sit together as if they know each other, and maybe they do. A couple seem interested in the curriculum. Most of them don’t. They’re hoping for brownie points for sitting up front, but this isn’t high school. They haven’t learned that yet. They’re young.

The second and third rows are populated every-other chair, so that everyone essentially has their own table. If this were the breakfast club, I accept my place as the basket case.

The next week is much of the same. More overnights, but they’re even more grueling than before. One day into the foreign language, I realize it’s not going to happen. I have an epiphany. Something just… clicks. I’m not having a good time, and I don’t care about this. I’m not going to do well. Class isn’t over but I know I want out. We’re taking a quiz and I do my best, but I’m not stressing because I know I’m an hour away from dropping the course.

I get home and do the deed. Drop’t. It feels so good.

I realize that the next day was the census date and I sigh with relief. I did it just in time. I sign up for an online replacement that starts two weeks later. Because, last semester I smashed right? A’s, bitch.

At this point, I haven’t even touched the book for my already existing online class. Frankenstein. Bitch. Have you seen my avi? I love Frankenstein. Frankenstein is hashtag aesthetic. But every waking moment is at work, and I can barely get out of bed for that. This is when I have my second epiphany. I hustle when I have to. But if I don’t? Nada.

The next day a friend sends me a link and a screenshot.

Maybe. idk. The timing is too relevant. The universe is nudging me. I should probably research this. I didn’t know I needed glasses until I was like, 20. So who is to say I don’t have ADHD?… but we’ll talk about this later. Back to school (ha).

I make it to Saturday. We’d been to work until 2, and it wasn’t a particularly taxing evening in comparison, but the build up made me the worst I’d been. Whatever. It’s over. The next week is back to our regular morning shifts. But I’d just spent two weeks adjusting to nights. Now I’m sleeping all day AND night.

It’s the census date for the online and Saturday class. And because I can’t drop fucking everything, I let them pass. I get to another Saturday, and I finally have enough sleep before class to laugh at my circumstances. I’m stuck with a teacher who is so boring he can’t keep track of his own train of thought, in a room full of people I’m too much of an asshole to associate with. I have an entire book to read in another course, and a third course – one replacing a dropped course – starting in two days.

This week finally comes and I’m fucking three weeks behind. I have a quiz coming up. I read over this new course’s syllabus, and it calls for weekly immersion with a tutor or other real live human being. Like, I get it. But that’s more effort than I had to do in my in real life class. I’m not going to struggle every week to find someone to talk to me in a language I don’t know? If this was an advanced language class I’d understand. But, bruh. No.

I have that feeling. That drake lyric feeling. I can hear him in my ear. Know yourself, know your worth. I take one last look over the syllabus, just to make sure I’m not missing something.

Drop’t. 

I go online and try to fill this twice-emptied hole in my studies. I try to add two courses to bring me back into full time for Financial Aid, and the website only lets me add one. Fine, fuck it, whatever. I’ll figure it out later. I’ve got three weeks of a class to make up, and a quiz to study for.

It’s two days later and I’m (slowly) catching up. I hustle when I have to. But I’m worried I’m not going to catch up. There’s no way I’m getting an A now. It’ll be a fucking miracle. I don’t even understand what we’ve covered in my Saturday class, and part of me thinks neither does the teacher, but I’m getting fucking quizzed on it. And I’m so worried I’m going to be judged for dropping two classes, I can’t even fathom trying to drop this other one if it doesn’t work out. And for all I know, I have ADHD?

Let’s look into this.

Big if true.

And really fucking annoying, because I had most of these issues in high school and told countless therapists all of this. I’m sure they know something I don’t. I’ll find out soon. I’ve got healthcare through work because I’ve been too nervous to use the healthcare through my mother, because irrationality is my finest tuned quality. It goes active in October, and I really need to talk to someone. If it’s not this, it’s something. I’m so fucking tired, y’all. I can’t keep blogging about it. I just want to be different than I am. I want to do better. Nothing I’m doing works.

So, that’s my 1400+ words about nothing. I need to stop writing now because I’ve got all that work to catch up on, but I’d like to thank the realest for posting, which inspired this wall of useless complaining. She did much better than me at writing and not complaining.

unrelated, I really want to change this theme so I might do that when I’m caught up. look out

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