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Waiting On One Look

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Trouble Is A Friend
she hates me; sad; defeated
Spring Break.  Eee.  I can't exactly kick back and relax, though, because the Hamlet essay draft I turned in was so godawful the professor set up a sort of emergency consultation.  I get to rewrite the draft (which counts for part of the grade on the final paper), but I have to send it to my TA by Saturday.  So that's what I'll be working on tonight and tomorrow.  The whole situation's just kind of embarrassing.

I have a lot to do this week, actually:

1) Rewrite Hamlet essay draft
2) Begin revising draft
3) Revise synthesis essay
4) Study for Social Psych exam
5) Study for Greek Art and Archaeology exam
6) Read "Troilus and Cressida"
7) Read "The Taming of the Shrew"
8) Read "The Winter's Tale"
9) Find two sources for first part of annotated bibliography
10) Work through a chapter of Latin each day
11) Make flash cards with images for GA&A exam
12) Read assigned Astronomy chapter
13) Finish online Astronomy assignment

And I want to see some of my friends who'll be in town, and take at least a couple days to just relax, and maybe read something for pleasure instead of for school...a week isn't really long enough.

On another note, I'm starting to worry that the barrier that's grown between me and my parents might turn out to be permanent.  I wish I knew whether my distancing myself from them is normal or if it's because of my disorder.  All my mom did was mention that she wanted to sit down with my therapist and discuss what's going on, and I shrugged and said it was fine, but on the inside I started panicking.  Part of it is that she doesn't know how bad it is, and I don't want her to know.  I tell myself that's because I'm protecting her, but maybe all I really want to do is keep her at arm's length so I can keep doing what I'm doing.  I've already resigned myself to the fact that I'm never going to get better, and a twisted, selfish part of me just wants everyone to leave me alone and let what happens happen.

At the same time, another part wants to put her fist through the glass that separates me from everyone else, to tear away the layers of gauze that acts as a buffer between me and my emotions, and live.  Lately I've been feeling like that part has been buried alive inside me.  I gather my shields around me and continue to go through the motions inside my glass box.

I don't know if I'm ready to let anyone in.  Therapy itself is hard enough sometimes, because I feel like it's too easy to just say the right things and then go on about my usual business.  I can't separate what I want from what my disorder wants, so I can't figure out how anyone can help me.

Loneliness aches.  But sometimes I feel like not being alone would be worse, because it's so much more complicated.

I'm tired of being this person - depressing, aloof, guarded.  Unmotivated.  Never fully present.  I'm afraid that I'll wake up and it'll be years from now and I won't have done anything with my life.

I think I'll work on my paper now, which is at least productive.  It's a start.


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