ugh.

It's finally my senior year, and it's no different than any other. If anything, it's been worse. I haven't done anything for college really, so yeah, I'm going to university next year. If I ever get my act together. And it's not even being lazy that's my problem, I'm just plain apathetic. I don't care. But I wish I did. I've basically convinced myself I won't get into my first choice school (though I won't know how well I have unless I get rejected) and it's just absurd. I have good enough grades and test scores, I wish I could just be like, "You should let me into your school." And that be the end. Why have to describe some experience that might mean nothing to me in 20 years in an effort to convey my originality and personality. I'm 16 years old, almost 17, how original can I be? Most of the experiences I've had are common experiences, not something life-shattering. How am I supposed to convey that I deserve to go to a school?

And it's not only that. Columbia is my first choice school, right? I wish I could convey the feeling I had when I visited. I fell in love. I didn't go there expecting that. I went expecting it to be nice, to be in the city, to be prestigious. I fell in love with their program of studies, with their emphasis on reading, with the school itself. And if I don't get in, no matter how much I have convinced myself otherwise, it will hurt. I'll go to another school, but it most likely won't be one I love. And this, I suppose, is why I'm apathetic. I'm afraid.

Afraid of what the answers will be when I send in that essay and tell my school were to send my transcripts, tell the test websites who to give my scores to. The finality of those actions is frightening. And I am beyond scared, I am terrified.

Thinking about this makes me a nervous wreck. Thinking about how much my classes this year affect things make me more of a nervous wreck. AP English IV is going to ruin my life. And it's most likely my fault, but I never said I was a decent writer.

look at

how cliched i can be:

now the heart beating in my chest
feels emptier with every breath
as my lungs cave in
knowing i will never see you again

what a melodramatic malady
teenage tears and such ambidextrous apologies
for every bit of false hope you gave
i will take it too the grave
take them to the grave
those final words you said to me
in that ultimate hypocrisy
there is nothing more true than that

---
and after that point i go on and on about some other matter and i don't understand my train of thought or remember writing those words.

i hate mondays.

find me somewhere safe to hide
treason is within my reach
i am too tired to sleep
hold me while i finish this drink
every word is a tiny lie
whispering that i am fine
hopefully they believe it too
i can't forget anything, anything now
trying my hardest you won't break down
blood spills and i cry out
i've never wanted so much to die.

----

i've got more inarticulate apologies in me than will ever get out. every single thought is a question of whether you would try. i am so tired of thinking too much into every detail, forgetting every thing i must do. i would give everything up for too little. i know it. this obsession must stop. at least this year. one more to go, and i will still have work, and be even more alone. is there something broken? sometimes i fear it is me. i am sick of these thoughts in my head. when i don't sleep i rant and rave. only to my computer. i procrastinate then hate myself for it. there are no excuses. i miss who i thought i was.