oh, the mind of a writer..

Virgo (Aug. 23 — Sept. 22)

The daunting task before you now has left you feeling intimidated, but a benign sky insists you are the right person to do the job. The potential problem you fear is hardly anything. It’s all going to work out much better than you think. 

- http://www.thestar.com/diversions/horoscopes 

Well, another year has come and passed. So many good memories from this room; from C’s room that are being physically left behind, but not emotionally. They will always remain in my thoughts and heart. It’s one of those bitter sweet emotions that is creeping up on me while I stare at my empty room with all the boxes and bare walls, listening to Johnny Winter (two steps from the blues); various songs of Bessie Smith playing in the back ground as I packed. 

This year could easily be summed up as one of the best years I have ever experienced: though there has been spiritual ups and downs, and a recent over-load of school work (which is blissfully done), everything else about this year has been amazing. 

I have made so many new friends, and have finally been able to feel at home at school and in my own skin. I have finally learnt how to look in the mirror and like what I see; reflect upon my personality and love myself for who I am and what I can do. 

I have found my place in the world it seems. I have found the love of my life this year, a man who can make me smile effortlessly, no matter the mood I am in; he’s able to pick me up when I fall, and keep me completely interested. He has my whole heart, which has never happened before- he accepts me for who I am, and knows every aspect of my personality; good and bad, and somehow still loves me completely. 

I have found a faithful friend; someone who I could easily call my best friend and who I would do anything for. 

But yet, there are tears running down my eyes- perhaps a mixture of happiness and sadness. I look at this room, and think of all the good times; happy times I’ve had here. Exam time in December when me, G and C all chilled on my bed and ‘worked’ on our school work; the first time C slept over, mine and G’s ’music videos… and so much more.

I can remember when I first moved in here; painting this room yellow with my mom, discussing E, school and friends… I remember my expectations for this year, and how it turned out to be so much better then I could have ever imagined. I would have never thought this was going to be the year it has been, and I’m grateful.

But I always feel a little sad when moving out of a place, but this time seems to be a little sadder. Perhaps part of the cause is knowing that C has gone home for the summer, is no longer in this town. Perhaps its that I’ll never chill with him and his roommates and our friends in his room anymore, won’t hear the familiar tapping on his fridge while lying in bed in that room. 

Or maybe it’s that I already miss him, even though he dropped me off about 4 hours ago, knowing that I wont see him tomorrow or the next day.

I don’t know what it is; probably a combination of all these things and more.

Whatever the case, I know that next year will be just as good if not better then this year was; I’m hopeful, happy, sad; this is truly a bitter sweet moment, and I’m happy to move on; to experience more happy memories and good times.

Now to continue packing so I’ll be ready tomorrow.

-good night.

Countless amounts of essays, sleepless nights, restless days. Distractions, procrastination, stress, frustration and irritation. Cigarettes haven’t helped much, other then relieve these unpleasant feelings momentarily. The minute the smoke has stopped streaming from the stick of tobacco, the stress, frustration and irritation returns. The distractions return. Essentially, I’m back in my personal hell. If I haven’t mentioned this before, I hate the last week of school. 

I have so much work to get done- I’ve already gotten an extension for my philosophy of religion essay (on religious and mystical experiences- what else?) for Monday, which is in exactly one day. Is it at least half way done? Not even slightly. I was so confused- I didn’t know where to start, didn’t know how to structure it. Didn’t even know what I was talking about, which is highly unlike me. Normally, when it comes to school work, I hate asking for extensions, and I hate asking for help. But, when I realize I really need it, I’ll ask. Which I did, and he did help a lot.. But, why can’t my brain function enough to put the words together to make this essay everything it can be? After a week of non-stop writing, of practically living in the library- arriving around 10, some days 9 in the morning and not leaving until 2am at the worst, 9pm at the best, just to go home and write some more, of dealing with family issues that no one seems mature enough to deal with except for me, and living with a bladder infection that seems to have transformed into a kidney infection.. I’m done. 

I cant do this anymore… how much do they think I can take? And who the fuck are ‘they’? who do I blame this on? No one. How can I blame it on anyone? If I want an education, the most ambitious of educations, which of course I would, I have to get used to this. This is what it will cost me… but is my sanity worth it? I feel like I’m going stark-raving mad; I can’t handle this. 

Ever since I was about 14, no matter what it was, my family relied on me for answers. It only got worse as I got older. If someone in the family had a health problem, had a problem with their kids, spouse, finances and so on, it was always “call amber”, “ask amber”, “amber always has all the answers”… and I provided them with what I knew. It started with my gift; the minute my whole family- and when I say whole family, I’m referring to close to 100 people- knew how accurate I was with my ‘gift’, it was so-long adolescent and teen life, hello adult hood and all the problems that go with it. Don’t get me wrong, my family is amazing, and the life I led aside from my gift was fun, if not too adventurous and troublesome. But most of my life was devoted to this gift, how could it not be? And it seems that now, at 19, I am faced with dealing with this family’s ‘dirty laundry’ as the saying goes. My uncle, who was just wrongly charged with spousal abuse, and very accurately charged with having an addiction to chemical substances, is in deep shit. He needs an intervention, and he needs his family to back him up, all together. All at once. He needs someone to be there for his children and let them know they’re not alone in this, he needs someone to treat his wife with dignity and like a human being, even though she stooped to the ultimate low- acting like a child will not get you anywhere, and it most definitely will not persuade her to drop the charges. But will anyone do that? No, of course not. So, I am left to deal with it all, as usual. Left to talk to my aunt, talk to my younger cousins, organize an intervention, and so on. Normally, I would not mind doing this. But now, at this time in the year? As I have said, I’ve been pretty much living in the library and surviving off of late night dinners. No sleep. I’ve had barely enough time to see my boyfriend. And now, I have to deal with problems bigger then myself. Problems that I shouldn’t have to deal with; problems that just add to my ball of stress.

And now, I also have to deal with a bladder infection and possible kidney infection. Which brings me to my current state of mind and current surroundings. It’s about 12:19am right now, and instead of writing my essay at home, I am in the emerge. Waiting to be seen so I can fix this crippling pain in the left side of my stomach. I can hardly breathe because it hurts so much, and my face is probably stained with tears… I’ve been crying for a few hours now. The pain started about 2 days ago I think, but only started getting intolerable today. My school book is open beside me, and my lap top is plugged in. But, the only thing I can concentrate on right now is the intense throbbing of my side. And what happens when I call home to tell them I’m going to the hospital? My father, who, in his defence, is probably worried sick about me, starts yelling at me about not taking care of myself properly… fuck that. I am not taking care of myself?! Really? Because I’m pretty sure, I’ve been taking care of every one else around me for the past I don’t know how long. On top of it, I’ve been swamped with work- haven’t even had the time to sleep let alone waste 3-5 hours of my life in the emerge! He has not been through school like this, he doesn’t realize the intensity of it. But, he should at least begin to understand a little how hard this is- I haven’t been home in close to a month, something that I have never done! And why? Because of school work. 

So here I sit, crying again, homesick, and wondering how the hell I am suppose to get this essay done in time to start writing a next one, and how the fuck I’m going to study for an exam when I barely have enough time to start and finish another essay (aside from this one). I’m stressed beyond no return, as you can probably tell. 

I wonder if C got home okay… he paid for my cab here, comforted me while I indulged in my (much needed) vice, and walked home from the hospital. This is ridiculous. I feel like my body is falling apart, and my mind is close to follow. 

I’m going to start reading about the differences between non-mystical and mystical religious experiences now, why mystical is more credible, and how neither of them reasonably prove the existence of the Theistic God. 

And I’ll leave you with one question before I go:

Will someone please just euthanize me already?

-Amber Christina