Seven Weeks

“If you find me in a gloom or catch me in a dream,
inside my lonely room there is no in between.”
- “Whispering Pines,” The Band
...47 days...

I am so bummed. I opened the door to my wonderful, expensive apartment last night and this giant, dark cloud descended, like the one that hovers over Eeyore but much more permeable and persistent. There’s absolutely no reason for it. I have a job and a future and (providing I don’t fail out this semester) an education that could get me somewhere if I make it past thirty. Ugh. I really, really, really don’t want to deal with the next seven weeks. It’s so short a time and all the problems are in my mind, which makes the inescapable and almost impossible to contend with. And I’m dreading graduation rather than looking forward to it because I look so horrid. I wish I could go back to last year at this time and redo all my mistakes. I should have spent the summer in a job I liked, working for my parents, rather than one I loathed that still plagues me. And I shouldn’t have let myself fall apart to this extent. Stupid idiot. Well, off to another day. I wish I were sitting in the lobby of the Grand Floridian.