July 16, I promised myself that I’d have finished studying at least one book by today.
Didn’t happen. Now I’m panicking. Shamefully, even today I didn’t achieve anything.
I didn’t go to college, didn’t attend ward, then woke up to go talk to someone who had called, went shopping to a grocery store at a 20 minute drive from hostel. Then stopped by the mall for window shopping. Enjoyed chocolate truffles at a reasonable cafe. Wasted some more time before finally returning to hostel…then sleeping again…for two hours.
I just woke up feeling extremely guilty.
Yet I don’t have that energy to focus on my books.
I reached my maximum limit in january and then just fell. I didn’t pick myself up. I just lay in my dark place for the next 6 months.
Then my aunt took us to a small trip to somewhere green. My parents never travel. My dad thinks it’s a waste of time and money. He was scorning at us as we left. He didn’t say his goodbyes as my mom beamed and wished him well. So I didn’t say my goodbyes either.
I came back feeling better. That was July 16. I made up my mind then to study. I made a schedule. I stuck post-its all over my fridge. I started studying. In 3 days I had covered one whole system from the biggest book that undergraduates don’t even dare to read.
Then another week passed in which my capacity was again deteriorating. Things happened that left me upset.
Again, I couldn’t focus anymore. Again, I believed I’m a failure. Again, a teacher reminded me I’m good for nothing.
I shut my books close.
Now, it’s August 16. Again, I feel exactly like I did 8 months back. I’m falling back into this quick sand. It wants to take me in again. I’m scared. I’m sad. I cannot get up. I’ve lost all will to go on.
So I’ll just sit here and wait for a miracle to happen.