anotherlongshot (anotherlongshot) wrote,
anotherlongshot
anotherlongshot

help me to help you to help me.

I am bored.

Today was... yeah.

I had a nightmare last night.

Dreamt that I got a B3 for the actual GP exam.

Oh my god.

Woke up feeling cranky and when I remembered the dream, my bad mood made a lot more sense.

I think if I really got a B3, my life would cease to have meaning.

And hence, I would cease to have a life as well.

I went for Maths today.

I went for History too.

Awkward situation in the canteen.

I still have the word 'ass' permanently tattooed on my forehead.

But if it's tattooed on my forehead, it must mean that the word is permanently there.

Hence, I have just demonstrated redundant usage of words.

It was most probably one-sided though, the awkward situation in the canteen.

Sometimes I do wonder: when in the bloody history of time and the time that has not yet arrived would I cease to completely goddamn stupid?

I'm not referring to my intelligence, because I obviously have a fair amount of that.

I'm referring to... my bloody stupidity.

Like... oh, I don't know.

I mean, sometimes you just act completely stupid and your action is completely incongruous with your character and who you really are and you just leave that situation in which you act completely stupid and wonder why you just acted completely stupid and of course you don't know why you just acted completely stupid because you're too damn stupid to pinpoint the exact cause of your stupid action.

Right.

I am suddenly so afraid of failing GP (ie. get anything less than an A1) that I'm tempted to write another essay, but what the hell is the point?

I think if you asked me to write an essay that goes, "Is it ridiculous to treat animals humanely?", I would totally not be able to write more than a paragraph.

Wait, make that a sentence. I'd probably go, "Duh. What a fucking stupid question that is rhetorical and hence requires no answer" and just leave it at that.

Oh my god. I am fucking scared. I can't do this. I'm going to fail. I'm going to mess up and make a laughing stock out of myself when it's finally revealed that I've always been right in calling myself a fraud. A FRAUD, because that is what FRAUDULENT ME is.

Everything is wrong. I don't feel prepared at all. I feel like I'm going to go in there and drown and be left by myself drowning without a tossed life buoy or even a wooden plank.

The word 'equanimity' does not exist in my vocab.

(Actually, that is partially true, considering the fact that I didn't know it existed before that SMS which was a reply to my seeking a lifeline the night before my Maths paper 1 prelim which I eventually did fail because I took 'equanimity' to the very extreme and ceased to give a fuck, hence substituting calmness for fatalistic-ness, which I am aware is not a word but whatever.)

Seriously, I don't want to do this at all. I'm afraid that my fear and anxiety would get the better of me and I'd completely blank out during the thing. And since GP is the first paper, it would be the one that would kena the most. And since GP is my best subject (name me another subject for which I can score the highest grade without studying) it basically means that everything would go to hell along with GP because... because I said so.

I know what people would say: You have to calm down!

Right, so tell me something I don't already bloody know. How the hell can I possibly be calm when my bloody pride, which has been denigrated through and through and slung through nothing less than horse shit for the past year and ten months, is at stake? My PRIDE, for crying out loud. My pride!

I'm a bitch, I'm a whore, I look like a horse.

Yes, Joaquin, I completely agree with you.

I think I should be eliminated from the face of the earth because my existence is evidently a waste of the world's scarce resources. What am I contributing to the world? Nothing. What would I contribute to the world? Possibly nothing as well. What is the (I actually typed 'what the is', amazingly) point of living? Fifty years down the road we're all gonna be a minute part of one of many generalisations that make up History.

I mean, causes of the 1905 Russian revolution that wasn't really a revolution because it took twelve more years for things to change. One cause: the grievances of the peasants. Despite the emancipation of the peasants and some law that was passed to relieve their economic burden, most of them were still in heavy debt. Another cause: the discontent of the urban classes. I forgot the details but it had lots to do with how wages were not increased alongside the increase in the workers' marginal revenue product, and hence many went on strike, etc etc etc.

So okay, we get a huge picture of the lives of the people.

Like, what about the individuals?

My point is, no matter how special you are, as long as you're not the top 0.000001% of the Special People, you're doomed to be remembered in History as a bunch of discontented peasants and urban workers. That's all you're gonna be. That's the only legacy you'd leave after you die.

And so I ask the question: What the fuck is the point to everything that we do? With every Shakespeare comes about ten bloody trillion nobodies. What makes you think that you'd be Shakespeare? And if you aren't Shakespeare, what is the point of existing when posterity would not at all give a shit about your existence?

So my disillusionment increases in magnitude and I think if I don't snap out of it soon, my doom will certainly be etched in stone come November 4 - November 25 so yes, Yelen, shut the fuck up, stop thinking nonsense and stay focused. I don't really care how pessimistic you are; you're not going to jeopardise this any further.

Okay, I think getting an A1 for GP prelim has basically jinxed my A1 for the A Levels. History always repeats itself, right?

No, seriously, self, SHUT UP. You're so irritating. I don't know how I've managed to put up with myself all these while.

Even scarier is how I have managed to avoid suicide or whatever other things equally attention-seeking and pretentious along those lines all these years by talking to myself in my head, holding an actual conversation as if two people existed in there.

And I don't think that's too far from the truth but yeah, I don't feel like going into it right now.

Reminder to self: As cliche as it sounds, it really is do or die and I think you have died enough so it's time to stop dying. Thank you.

Tags: a levels, angst, dreams, junior college
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