05 December 2009

FML.

You'd think that in my third year of college, I would have learned to manage time and responsibilities. Why do I always do this to myself? I don't know how I'm going to salvage my rhetoric grade (or what's going to happen with my women & minority writer's grade). The irony? They are my two favorite classes and the two I've learned the most in. My engagement? 100 percent. Papers finished (or finish-able)? Fuck.

Not only am I concerned about having shitty grades, but getting lower than a C in Rhetoric would mean I'll have to re-take it. I can't afford that.

I thought this year would be different. At first, I was doing great. Then I met Chelsi and got behind. That new trend didn't end, just progressed despite efforts against it (not that it wasn't my fault, because it completely was. Including the reason my efforts weren't successful in the end; they fluctuated). I don't know how to deal. My mind feels a little bit like burnt, dried out toast. And it's not from drugs. Unless stress and papers are considered drugs. If so, maybe I should go to rehab.

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