my friendship comes in 3 levels:
3) inappropriate sexual humor.
I hate the word final, because I just plain hate endings. Ending a book, ending a song, ending a season, ending a life.
So naturally the thought of “Finals week” fills my soul with a deep, black, dread the likes of which I have never known.
Because now in college, with my GPA so precariously placed, it literally makes the difference between whether or not I’ll be allowed to return to those I love, or whether life as I know it will be destroyed forever.
I am sitting here alternating between working myself into a state of near catatonic exhaustion, and having full-on panic attacks as the weight of all that is expected of me as my parent’s first-born and as the second person in the family to complete more than two years of college, Mom being the other.
If I succeed, I continue on my path to make my legacy, and win my place in the world.
But if I fail… It is game over, no second chance, no escape, and I will have failed all those who helped me to survive to this point.
I’m only 20 years old, but I feel like I’m 200, I am not ready to be facing my own doom. I am scared, I am hurting, and I have never felt more alone in my life.
I put on my fraternity letters to act as a sort of security blanket, the familiar colors and fabric bringing to mind the moments that have made my life worth living. And kept the story from ending on many a cold and frightened night.
But the memories and harsh words of those who say my GPA isn’t worthy of bearing them quickly drowns out the faint songs of freedom and hope. The fabric scratches and I feel the discomfort knowing I’m not allowed to bear them.
My coping mechanism is failing, and the nightmares are getting worse. I have begun having chest pains from the stress, it feels like the terror and worry are beginning to destroy me from the inside out.
And can I voice these feelings? of course not, my voice fails me when I try to ask for help, so I cry out to a blog that so few will look at.
The semester is ending, and I fear I may not survive to see the next.
I act as a comforting voice, or shoulder to lean on for so many, I protect those I love from hurt and sorrow with everything I have. But where is the person to comfort Me? Who guards the guardian angel?
I am not a religious man, but I have taken to saying five small words, over and over, every time I feel fear, or stress. like a prayer before bed. Just a silly mantra to spur me ever onward…
"I HAVE to be okay”
Announcement: Henceforth my tumblr will be a Prince George Appreciation Blog.