Sometimes I have to work really hard to remind myself why I'm here--not existentially speaking, necessarily, but here here. Why Gonzaga? Why Spokane? Why home, in the poisonously unsupportive parental and familial environment?
And then I think, where would I go, then, if not here? I generate plenty of answers, but most of them seem forced and inauthentic.
I've been trying to write a letter to a friend for nearly three months now, and I haven't been able to write myself out of the bullshit drafts, because I'm so reluctant to admit to, well, how crappy everything has been. I've been lying to myself to try to make things better, but all I've done is started biting my nails again. I'm bewildered by my waning interest in my classes and my academic pursuits. Now that I know I can't get anything better than a B in Religion, I ask myself: who the fuck cares about upper-middle class socialization, or the ancient historical context of the Old Testament, or the way to diagram an argument in valid logical form?
God, I feel fifteen again, craving escape and counting down the days until I'm free. This is not a good sign. I'll sleep on this and hope that things look better in the morning.
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