On my way to school this morning, I burst into tears for no apparent reason.
Yeah, it was one of those days.
Interestingly enough, though, on my way home from school twelve hours later, I experienced a sudden bout of optimism. I know, right? That never happens. Anyway, I did. I had just finished a long day at school (of which there are two more before finals), I’d spent hours completing first drafts of two out of three research papers due next week (two thirds done with the first half—what percentage is that?), and I had an episode of Gossip Girl waiting at home for me. I was feeling much more cheerful than I had been this morning.
I could literally feel a bounce in my step as I considered all the good things in my life. “This semester is nearly over, and I don’t even have too many pimples to show for the stress. I know it’s a little daunting now, but every semester about this time I get to feeling overwhelmed, and every semester, I make it through all right. The key is to prioritise, take little steps. You can do it—you’ve always done it!”
And then…I jinxed myself. Out of the clear blue, with no motivation that I could distinguish, I just…turned grouchy again. One minute I was thinking, “Take heart, old chap, things will be getting better soon, you can do it, you’ve always done it,” and my thought immediately following was, “AND YOU ALWAYS WILL.” And snap! just like that, I was right back to my old familiar pessimism. “Yeah, cheer up,” I sneered to myself, “the worst is yet to come. This is only one semester in a looong line of semesters guaranteed to be as horrific as this one, if not worse. You’ve been a college student for so long, no wonder you have it down pat—you’ll NEVER BE FINISHED. Graduate? Ha! That’s just a fairy tale. You’ll never make it that far. What’s more, you have dandruff. You’re weak. WEAK.”
Oy vey with the negative self-talk, eh?
I guess there’s no real reason to tell you this. It’s not like I experienced a sudden realisation that my negativity would be the death of me; I just quickly silenced the creepy bipolar voice inside my head and drove home. I mean, what else could I have done, really?
Don’t worry, I’m not depressed—I’ll save that for spring semester, when I don’t have Christmas to look forward to.
But I really do have dandruff. It’s horrible.