it is a uniquely painful torture when a professor says “pick what you want to write about”. i have trouble deciding what i want for lunch, and now you want to tie my grade (and my emotional well-being) to my decision-making abilities?
obviously, she desires my failure.
you never realize whether you truly love/need something until you are forced to choose what to take with you in an emergency evacuation. how many books can i fit in this duffel??? we’re about to find out.
still not talking about it. still not looking at the photographic evidence of it. still ignoring the congratulations.
because it still feels more like a death than an accomplishment. and no one wants to hear a eulogy right now.
i have been in the deepest depression this past week. today, my roommate got drunk and tried to order pizza via an automated phone delivery system. hilarity ensued, and i am now crying for an entirely different reason. 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣
my advisor has always seen so much potential in me, and that opinion changed today. she finally admitted i would never survive grad school. i forgot how much it hurts when people stop believing in you.
i just bombed my final presentation. i am ending my educational career with literally the worst academic moment i have ever had. i am so mortified that i can barely breathe.
despite vast experience on the subject, it never gets easier when someone who promised to stick around opts out. everyone does, eventually, but i’m still human enough that the foresight is not armour enough.
there is a certain level of togetherness i will never understand. like i will never be able to call up my significant other just to sit there, not talking, each of us doing our own work with no interaction. it serves no purpose.
also could be why i’m still single.