Wednesday, 27 November 2013

Panic stations.

The first exam that will actually contribute towards my final degree grade is in two weeks. I have a poetry deadline requiring me to write eighty lines of verse due around then too. Deadlines are looming, along with the festive season, and I'm miserable. Stressed to death. Bored, uninterested and just bleugh. I feel like I'm walking in blind. I can't concentrate no matter how hard I try. I'm too stressed to function and I can't manage what I've got to do. The voice in the back of my mind is telling me that I'm wasting my time at uni, because most of the time I don't even enjoy it, because it stresses me out so much. I want to scream and cry and tear my hair out a lot. I find myself burried under too many textbooks and reading and I'm pretty much drowning here. I've got everyone around me telling me that they believe in me and are pretty sure I'm just overexaggerating and being my 'dramatic' little self. However, it is all true. Winter blues are a thing. I hate winter, and yes, sometimes it does make me sort of feel depressed, and down and low. The long, lonely nights, the freezing temperatures, the having-to-wear-a-coat thing. What's there to shout about? Yes, I'm neck-deep in negativity. I'm questioning the relevance of my degree, and I know fine well, I keep getting told it often enough, that being a writer is an unrealistic career path. I'm sick of people telling me that, but only because I know they're right. I'm holding out for something that probably won't happen, and if it does, it probably won't even be enough of a good thing to pay the gas bills. So yes, you could say I'm panicking. I'm being irrational. I'm sitting home alone at 18:47 and all I want is a large drink and some stupidly unhealthy comfort food. 

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