Finally the little meltdown

Whoa, yep. Here it comes. Here we go. Finally the little meltdown.

I lost my Single Game of Therapeutic Tetris because of this. I was on level five. For me, that’s actually serious failure.

Look, I can’t help it that I am an emotional person. See? There, I’ve said it. I’ve finally confessed. I am a blatantly emotional person. It’s not a crime. It’s how I’m made. It’s a genetic accident that has led to extremely powerful feelings when I don’t want them and mentally know I sure as hell don’t need them (interfering with my daily life).

But on the other hand, those deeply felt extremely passionate reactions are the reason I can write and mean it. They are the reason I can sing about love and have it reach someone. They are the reason I can bring life to old volumes of music that have been around for centuries. They are the reason I can love so fiercely, and with everything I have.

I care about what happens to my friends. I care when I hurt someone’s feelings. I care when I feel I am being used to get to someone else. I care when people I thought were my very best friends treat me like shit.

I care that I am so uncomfortable speaking up when I feel that I have been treated like shit. Why I am walked over so easily? Why am I constantly taken advantage of?

Is it because I like it? Is it because I want to feel needed by the people I love?

Or is it because that, somewhere along the line, I stopped caring that I treat some of my friends better than they treat me?

I think I just love too much. I love so much that I don’t think before I speak when it comes down to protecting what I feel ought to be protected. I don’t gauge the consequences when I can’t take it any more, and that’s why I can’t stand up for myself. Because it usually turns out with me looking like some know-it-all, high and mighty bitch. When really, I just read a lot, so my bitchiness is well thought out and (for the most part) grammatically correct.

I hate myself for caring. I have thought to myself, why can’t I be someone normal, who doesn’t give enough of a crap to speak her mind about something important? Why can’t I just shut up and keep my advice to myself? I get myself in trouble for being honest. For being absolutely one hundred percent honest with someone I thought I could trust… and then I try to fix it, which is almost just as bad.

What’s wrong with me?

But I can’t change. I won’t change. I won’t even go back and proofread this because even if it makes no sense I refuse to give an inch on this… this entire stupid situation. It’s so petty and I’m done. I just want to go home.


Final-ly (blog for 407T)

Well, I’m done! For the summer, for the semester. Until August, I’m done with school!

Not really, but the thought’s a nice one.

I don’t have to go to school for grades, now, though. And that’s where I get giddy. I can be self-motivated and study and learn because now I have the materials and the tools. I can learn things because I want to learn them and because they make me happy.

I guess I won’t comment in depth about how much I’ve changed. I’m really glad I made a new blog, a new chapter, for this part of my life, because you can see from the very, very beginning of my summer (last summer) how different things have gotten. I feel like my mind’s been stretched and warped in so many new and interesting ways– not all of them good, but then again, whose mind is all good? I figure those parts will iron themselves out as things continue to shift and change.

I did a lot of thinking last night as I laid in my bed in 407T for the very last time. It’s strange to think that I’ll never spend another night in this room. I remember thinking that about my room at home last summer (but of course I’m headed back there and have been there since last August). Still, the nostalgia is kind of the same. And it makes me a little melancholy to dwell on how many hours I’ve spent in here, thinking and ranting to Lucy, doing work, tapping out aural skillz rhythm patterns… good times. And bad times: the vicious homesickness, angsting over problems with people I thought were my friends, learning who was really going to be there for me– like the invaluable support system Professor Cowdrick spoke of– and who I’d be there for.

So much that has contributed to my personal growth and change has happened here. While I was sitting in this uncomfortable, ugly chair at this cluttered little desk.

I know it’s just a room, and I won’t linger sentimentally over it once I’m out of it. But for this moment, I’m going to sit here thinking about the year I’ve spent here, in 407T.