So, I’m back home. University is nothing but a bitter memory in my mind from a week ago. Then again, it isn’t completely bitter. Like all these things it has taught me something, that something being how utterly fucked, how utterly helpless I am. And you’re right, it makes me feel sad that I cannot cope with more than a week of university, in what world would that not make a person sad?
Sometimes things are inescapable.
Why? You’re probably asking. Well, it isn’t such a simple answer. If it were then maybe it wouldn’t be so daunting, so soul-tearing to watch as I tear my own world a apart from bottom to top.
I am twetny-years-old and I cannot manage university.
I am twenty-years-old and I cannot manage life…
I still have my place for next September. I didn’t withdraw, I took a leave of absence. At the time it was the most I could do. And sure, as it stands, in a years time I expect to return, I do want to return. Because in reality, I don’t have very much of anything else. This was… is my ticket to another part of life, one I love very much.
It makes me so angry that I live like this. That in part it is my own fault for not rectifying things much earlier when it first became the highest of necessities. And now, when it is the heaviest of boulders, the most catastrophic of hurricanes, the most violent of earthquakes – what can I do?
I have a year… is that enough time?
What if it isn’t?