[Note: My expletives are flying everywhere. You’ve been warned.]
You know one of those days where nothing seems to go right?
To anyone who tries to tell you they’ve been there and done that; it gets better; this is only a transition period and in due time you’ll be fine; that it’s a matter of perspective on your end – all this bloody pep talks that you can’t bear listening to, not now? The kind of day where you maintain your silence with pursed lips, but in truth you wish you could shout aloud, don’t fucking tell me you understand what I feel.
One of those days where you start the morning optimistically, actually believing that you’re ready and have your A-game switched on to face the most challenging midterm, one that’s worth a hefty 50% … only to spend the allotted hour-and-a-half struggling to answer four of six questions and left knowing you screwed up, big time?
One of those days when you’ve fucking studied for the past weekend for this, as you have been for the past month for everything else but the results seem to stubbornly be one and the same – you fall short? That moment when you feel you’ve given your level best only to realize, over and over, that your best doesn’t even cut past the average here?
You know one of those days when you realize it’s not going to be easy? You’ve long realized that, they’ve long realized that and everybody fucking knows but what you didn’t and never saw coming, was how hard it’s turning out to be?
You know the kind of day where the smallest of things sets you off and the added accumulation of frustration, anger and pressure finally build up enough to cause an internal explosion?
Then you start cursing, expletives flying everywhere, as if you weren’t brought up with better mannerisms? Fuck this, fuck that. Fuck everything. FUCK EVERYTHING.
Frustrated, you then took it out on another, like finally telling off your Dad to stop using you as a postwoman? And then you realize you’ve spilled water all over your backpack – such a trivial thing – but the next thing you know;
You’re on the floor and in tears, in the middle of this room in this mess of fucking books which aren’t yours and books which are, but you wish – almost – to send them away instead, or worse to burn them, because they remind you of things you rather forget?
You know one of those days where you’re sobbing fat, ugly tears in a space that’s all yours and all along, all the while, the hardest thing to admit – the one you didn’t want to admit aloud to anyone for the past month? That moment when the truth finally brims to the surface and in pain, you’re beating your chest as you continue to wail to no one but yourself? You know the pain for what it is – you’re sore, broken and no longer all that you were?
The truth is that you’re lonely and so very lost.
This is me right now;
I am a fucking mess.