"I can do with a hug right now."

Okay,
I've been up all night,
Working on my presentation that's due on Monday.
(Which, by the way, is not even half completed)
This really stinks,
Because I have no mood at all.

If there's a big chance that you might have to quit school,
Would you still want to do your homework?
If you're going to commit suicide tomorrow,
Will you still sit for your exam today?

Okay, okay.
No-one here is going to commit suicide lah.

I feel down.
If all this shit happened to me last year,
I would've killed myself ten times over.

(If you are a new reader,
Let me fill you in: I am perpetually depressed.)

So should I give myself a pat on the back,
For being stronger this time round?
Please.
If I'm that strong,
I would be dealing with my problems now,
Instead of writing about them.

(However, reading about them calms me down)

I can't stop blaming myself,
For making the decision to go back to school.
Things would be so much simpler,
If I had just graduated last semester.

1) I can't deal with the stress.

I don't have a genuine interest in sociology,
I'm not as qualified as the other students,
And the tempo is so much higher for honours modules.
Plus,
I'm seriously suffering from a lack of self-confidence.

2) The thesis.

Howtofinishhowtofinishhowtofinish.

Just hearing the word alone freaks me out.
2 months is just enough for the collection of data,
Not for finishing up the whole damn thing.
Is it fair to make me hand it up in November,
When everyone else has the luxury of the whole year,
To do his or her thesis?
What's the use of handing in a crap thesis,
And then end up failing it?
I hate writing appeal letters,
Because the feeling of rejection is... just... indescribable.
Especially when the stakes are so high.


3) Money woes.

If I'm working now,
I wouldn't have to worry about money.
If I quit now,
I'll waste one semester's school fees.
If I don't quit,
(Like there's a choice now)
I'll still have to ask my parents for money.
Not very nice,
When they've already dropped a bomb,
On my mum's hospital bills.

On top of all that,
I miss my mother,
And I wonder when she is coming home.

I think I'm going mad,
Because I'm talking to myself right now.

How come honours is like so fun for others,
And mine is like the end of the world?

Hug me, someone.
Or even better,
Kill me.

Back to work.