Tuesday, January 16

The least bit of stress and I crumble. So strong am I.

I began this blog a little over three years ago in order to explain myself to the people who complained of me being a riddle (one of those obscure types of riddles that do not involve prehistoric jungles or bullwhips but only a doctrinal mysticism and copious amounts of what we like to call "growing up"). I continued it later on to make my days seem less dark than they seemed to be at the moment; this involved a lot of me strenuously keeping my opinions to myself and focusing only on the pointedly amusing within my day.

It is for this second reason that I blog today, but with different effects. The good in my day seems slight and uncomfortable; the pulleys and levers of my conscience are creaking with the strain of making sure I see it all. Today my new classes look heavy and unwieldy, my grades look low and unmanageable, and my future encrusted with bills and a woolly, muffling type of solitude.

All of these momentary perspectives intrude upon my imagination in a most abominable way. My nose is too big, my eyes too small, my feet too clumsy and my hands too . . . red. If I could paint a picture of what I see of myself in the reflection of the cafe window right now, even God wouldn't recognise me.

Must. Change. Attitude.

Oh, and we got the new class settled out. We will meet every Monday at 8 o'clock in the morning. I SEE, NOW, THAT I LIVE IN A FALLEN, FALLEN WORLD. I AM SORRY I DID ANYTHING, EVER.


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