Tales from the Epiphany Toilet

So maybe I over-dramatize everything. It's not my fault I was born the youngest making me the attention-seeking, predominantly self-centered drama queen that I am. And it definitely isn’t my fault that I find myself in a bind that I can’t exactly get myself out of. Is this how people on death row feel a couple of days before they die?

And what exactly am I talking about?

A couple of days ago, give or take about two weeks, I found out I was failing Marketing. Yes, the introduction to Marketing. Yes, the first of the series of courses involving Marketing. After months of refusing to cry and giving in to whatever emotion I have left, my drama tears couldn’t stop falling – which caused my parents to be worried, which in turn, caused me to undergo the self-pity scenes I tried not to do anymore. (Yes, it involved cutting.) (Yes, it did hurt.) (And no, don’t call me Emo.)

So anyhoo, my grades will come out in a day or two... or three and I don’t feel ready. I don’t think I’ll ever be ready.

I don’t exactly deal well with impending doom. I don’t deal well with anything in life, I guess. If I’d been born dead, I’d probably deal with it a lot better… I don’t know how dead people deal with things exactly but, hey, it probably beats all the crap in this life.

Everyone’s been telling me it’ll all be fine – that I’ll be fine but I don’t know… I can't help but feel that by the end of this week, I'll be part of the remains of the day.

If it’s worth anything, there’s a teensy part of me that’s hoping I actually passed my subjects.

What would I give to be comfortably numb again? (Refer to the August 28 post.)

Why couldn't I been born as one of those sunshine-y people? Oh wait. I am one of those sunshine-y people. It is absolutely disturbing to be a melancholic sanguine.

'Till next time my ♥s.