I'm DONE.

I'm DONE with wanting and hoping and needing.

I'm DONE with feelings.

Nothing EVER comes easy to me. And I'M DONE with being patient.

I give up. Nothing in my life will ever be normal. I will never have ANY ONE THING to keep me SANE.

It's over. I give up searching for fucking sanity and peace.

I am shit. I will never accomplish anything in life.

I just need to leave and be far far away.

my life is a bastard.

but at least i have the supply closet at work.

I have this weird love for the supply closet at work. It's not so much a closet as it is a series of cubical cabinets. But I love it just the same and still call it the supply closet. Yesterday I was searching for the right kind of black pen. There were ALL kinds in there...a pen oasis. I tried several of the pens on the new legal pads our secretary ordered. Nerd heaven!

I love playing around in the supply closet. Sniffing the post-its that remind me of the first day of school, playing with the binder clips - my favorite office supply, and thumbing through the wide variety of Sharpie markers is a good stress reliever for me. For example, yesterday I was searching for a red plastic binding so I could put a 30 page manual together. Our supply closet has about 45 boxes of those comb-looking plastic things. They are all different colors and sizes. You really have to pull down the box, open it up, check out the size and color, and keep moving on if you got the wrong ones. Seriously dude, I felt like Harry Potter when he was trying to find his wand. I know it's sad that those kinds of things make me smile, but at least I am honest.

Sometimes in life you feel so alone and so scared and you wish your Guardian Angel can talk to you, but you can't. So instead, Allah sends human angels to help.

I know who my human angel was and I was very lucky to have that person. There were so many times that I was sad, but as soon as I talked to that person, that angel comforted me and I felt no more pain. Even if I didn't even talk about what was bothering me.

There was so many times I felt too weak to strive for things, but that person's voice lifted me up and reminded me I can do anything, because my human angel is right behind me, supporting me.....

But now I'm lost because I dont know where my angel went....

It just breaks my heart.

I have so much on pressure on my heart and mind right now and I would love to forget everything and be able to hold on to the hope that life will get better.

I just dont know how to deal with anything anymore......

I try so hard to stay positive, focus on school, on work, on family, on friends and not think about how sick I potentially can be...and how busting my ass for school may not pay off.

I just feel so worthless and I dont know how to get out of this hole. I don't know how to talk to anyone about this. Everyone has their own stuff to deal with. And all this pressure is building up and I really feel like I'm about to lose control.

I just want to give up and go away some where really far. I wish i didn't have to deal with all these things and got everything the easy way. I don't complain usually. I really don't. I bust my ass and work hard to have everything I have and I like it like that. But I don't know...im so scared that I'm falling apart and I just want my guardian angel to come and rescue me cause i'm really falling apart.

The road is long, and full of crazy turns. How easy it would be if a simple straight road was in front of me. I would know exactly what I wanted and where to go and how to get there. Sadly there are many curves and bends, and it is hard to predict what will be coming or what will happen. I guess tried to follow the straight road, and when it curved, I have always just kinda stopped and waited for it to straighten out again, but I think this time I will move on. It's not that big of a deal, and as a matter of fact, it is probably more than beneficial for me if I just move on past the curves. I will get farther in life if I don't just sit there and wait. That is what I have always done, and I have settled for what has come along. This time I think I will take control of the wheel and keep on going because I think the sooner I move on and find something that makes me happy, the sooner I can get over and forgive people for past mistakes they have made. I hate being mad at people, and I especially hate not being able to tell them. I hate keeping secrets from people, and not discussing things that need to be discussed, but I am going to work on changing that. I want to become a better person. The person that I want to be, not anyone else. This is for me and me alone, and I do not care if people do not like what I become because it is not their choice. I figure I may lose friends with who I change into. I will be more expressive with opinions and people may dislike it. I think I have already changed several friendships I have, and while that is hard to deal with, I figure if things change that easily anyways, the bond was not that strong to begin with.

I am going to smile about life and love every second of it. I am going to make the most out of my resources, and try to stop caring about the stigma that ignorant people place on me.

I will stop worrying about being sick because I can not change a disease, but I can live a normal life if I want. My heart honestly feels lighter right now, I love it.

Back in high school, I recall having written a story in English class that was to have been one of my initial forays into serious creative writing. Although I had been writing journals, short stories, jokes, notes and love letters to fellow students for many years, none were likely suitable for a grade.

I loved to write, but I had as yet to receive any well educated feedback or support for my efforts.

The submission of this story, then, being one of my few classroom efforts that had not been seized as contraband that would subsequently earn me a little visit to the principals office, was a turning point for me. I still remember my teachers reaction as if it occurred yesterday, her enthusiasm causing me to view my willingness to write as potential doorway to a future I had yet to imagine.

Although I no longer have a copy of the story, written as it was on spiral looseleaf and lost in the archives of my life, I recall the opening sentence quite clearly, my teacher having praised me for my ingenuity.

I wrote:

On a cold rainy evening, while alone in my apartment, I was viciously murdered for reasons beyond my comprehension.

I was 15 years old, inclined towards melodrama and horror (some things never change) and had essentially crafted an idea featuring a murder victims perspective on her death and the subsequent impact on the lives of those around her that was later to be made into a New York Times bestseller.

That had been my lovely idea back in high school! Why oh why hadn't I written a novel based on my short story and become an internationally renowned author?! What had I been thinking?!

Now I'm stuck being a stupid pre-med student on her way to flunk her mammalian physiology exam....


Sigh.....