In Which I Am A Mess

First of all, it’s that shitty time of year again. I hate it. It’s so dark and cold and dismal and I always get depressed and/or sick. Plus, Liza and Dominique and Ellie have all gone back to their respective colleges and I am alone once more. Okay, not totally alone— I do have a few friends who I’m close with and some who I’m not very close with but whom I can hang out with every once in a while without the overwhelming urge to shoot myself.

I registered for classes today. I’m going non-matric at our local state university, trying to get my feet back in the academic pool or something. I’m excited, but at the same time nervous. After community college and being sick and all the various shit that’s happened to me in the last five years or so, I’ve lost any confidence I may once have had in my abilities as a student. Every day I wake up and I have to convince myself that I’m not a failure, because I always have this feeling that not only am I worthless, but other people know that I’m worthless, and they’re disappointed in me for not being smarter, or better, or perfect.

Earlier today, when I was signing up for my classes, I got really excited. And now? Now it’s like, holy shit, what was I thinking? I can’t fucking handle this.

My best friend from fourth grade through high school, Jo, who’s currently living in Manhattan, called me on Tuesday to let me know she’s going to come up for my birthday in February. I haven’t seen her in forever, so that’s exciting. But it’s like I really want to be happy about that and a few other things but everything else keeps weighing me down.

My grandma’s in the hospital, which is really scary. She’s eighty-nine, and she’s always been very sharp for her age, and in good health, and now all of a sudden it’s like she’s falling apart. She fell down the stairs late Tuesday night and broke her leg in five places. They did surgery on her today, and when I first got in to see her tonight, she seemed to be doing better, but then she went all loopy. She was laying in the bed and she thought she was skiing and then she started screaming and saying, “No, don’t stare at Lucy!” (Lucy is my cousin.)

After I left, I went to the tobacco shop and bought some cigarettes and smoked one. I normally only smoke when I’m out with my friends, but I was so freaked out, and I really craved a cigarette. I guess this means my smoking is escalating. Shit. Next thing you know, I’ll be smoking regularly. I don’t want to, and I think my mom will kill me if I do, but fuck fuck fuck.

I’m popping anti-anxiety pills like candy. It’s not really helping, though. It’s been a while since I felt this bad emotionally. Months, at least. This is not the state I want to be in when I start school again. Gah.

Also? I was physically sick earlier this week, back to the old stupid dog and pony show passing out, and I missed work two or three shifts in a row and I didn’t even call in and I will probably be fired when I go in tomorrow.

And my throat is sore from smoking, and more sore from lying here and trying not to cry.