May 10th, 2011

Rainbow || Rainbow northern lights.

(no subject)

It's too much. It's worth too much. It's already worth too much and then my crazy-arse mind goes and adds to the significance of the results of the next four days of my life. Too much.

I have worked so hard. Why do the next four days have to decide what kind of degree I get? It isn't fair.

How does this prove or disprove that I've learned anything at all? It's senseless.

Because I know I've learned. I know it - I can feel and remember it. Not necessarily enough sit down in front of a blank writing book and write essays on all of it, though. And apparently in this wacky world of education I fell into like Alice - chasing some perplexing White Rabbit I'm compelled to chase into a hole - the information that goes into the writing book is what's important. That's what decides my achievement through university.

Cheers for that, system. So terribly pleased. Thank you. And since I'm putting myself in debt for this...I'll just go out on a limb and guess you won't be paying for the therapy it's going to take me to recovery from this? No? Thought not. Drats. Oh well.

(Not okay. Spending about 75% of my energy in any given moment trying to remain at the level below Okay and not plummet to the any Further Down levels. It's exhausting. So I'm going to sleep now for a few hours and tomorrow will be a day full of revision-and-hopefully-not-panic-attacks.)

Dear Future Kiwi,

This is the worst week of my life to date. I am working so hard not to disappoint myself - no one else will be - but I am already disappointing myself, every hour. I feel disappointed. I'm angry and sad and don't feel close to good enough, no matter the results. Or, the results can't make me feel good enough, but they can underline the feeling that I'm not good enough and add all sorts of red-pen scribbles around it that scratch down onto my heart. I'm afraid of sitting in the stupid little chair and turning over the stupid pieces of paper and writing in the stupid workbooks and being stupid stupid stupid.

Please be more compassionate with yourself and with me than I am. In your time out of uni, please try to learn self-gentleness. I wish I had. Please tell me that I'm going to be okay and that I'm going to get to you - that a week is a week, no matter how terrible, and the length of a second is a scientific construct so it doesn't relate to my emotions at all, really: these seconds will pass too. Go hug someone. For me and the remnants of me still within you, because I know I'll be there and the memory of this pain will have imprinted, please hug someone. And let someone hug you.

(21, final-year uni student, worst week of exams)

I'm sorry for being whiny and angsty and dramatic and someone I'm ashamed of being. Also, I don't know if I'm apologising to you-the-reader or me-the-writer. But I think it's both. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for it all and my sad state. I thought I was stronger than this.


A woman is like a teabag. You never know how strong she is until she gets into hot water.
[Eleanor Roosevelt]
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