Stop,
stop, how can you say that, how can you use such cheerful words,
yellow, yellow even on a black background, how can you smile at me when I
am wearing black, when I have worn
black for three days, how is this something you can tolerate? What is my
purpose, what is my worth, I have failed in the most egregious manner. I
need no scarlet A to convict me, for the guilt pollutes my soul, is
etched onto my bones, and when I die and they
cut out my heart under the microscope, they will find it written there
as well. Youth, now, what is youth, joy now what is joy, there is no
place in me now for such frivolous things. I am an old woman, aged,
lined and scarred, my fingertips bleed with every
breath I labour to draw. Darkness dogs my steps; my shadow strangles me
silently, the cold wind pierces my lungs, but I don’t feel a thing.

Soaked
in sweat, I wake – no I don’t because this is my life, this is real,
happening, the consummation of my existence. Tell me now, tell me the
reasons, I am a whirlwind dying.
Trash and bits of leaves falling uselessly to the ground. Sweep me under
the rug, under the sky, forget about me, I did not belong here. Do not
whisper my name. Do not remember.

I’m
sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m not sorry at all. Yes I am, God, this is not a
stain on my hands, not a damned spot, it is my very skin, blood, bones,
it will never come off. I’m
so sorry, though it was not preventable through any actions of my own,
not through any I knew how to take. My breath is gone, my gaze is weak,
my blood cools in my veins – I give myself over to you. Take me, take
this in his stead. My world is cold, I am a
husk, shell, frayed carpet underfoot. Leave me, take my breath, may it
give life to your memories of him, glowing in the darkness.

I close my eyes; may you open yours to him.
HELLO, STUDENTS.

LOOK AT YOUR ESSAY. NOW BACK TO THE CLOCK. NOW BACK TO YOUR ESSAY. NOW BACK TO THE CLOCK. SADLY, IT IS APPROACHING THREE IN THE MORNING. AND IF YOU KEEP UP POSTING RANDOMLY ON LJ, IT WILL BE FOUR AM BY THE TIME YOU'RE DONE.

SCROLL DOWN. BACK UP. WHERE ARE YOU? YOU'RE IN THE MIDDLE OF EDITING A PARAGRAPH ABOUT L'HONNETE HOMME DANS LA LITTERATURE CLASSIQUE. WHAT'S ON THE PAGE? I HAVE IT. IT'S A SENTENCE WITH VITAL CONTENT THAT YOU CAN'T FIND A PLACE FOR IN THE ENTIRE ESSAY.

LOOK AGAIN. YOUR ANXIETY IS NOW ADRENALINE. ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE ON FOUR HOURS OF SLEEP.

I NEED SOME COFFEE.

why does my life center around writing spoofs of internet memes ijdgi


Maybe if I am sleep-deprived as long as possible, it will hurt less when I get back my mark for this essay. :/ OTL.
The other thing that no one tells you about things like this is how trivial everything else seems afterward.
Under the cut: Dance. More dance. Loads of dance. Some serious stuff at the beginning. Then dance. ).

*Or maybe it just feels like such because there is no air conditioning in any of the dance studios, WHAT THE HELL.
** Repeat after me: I am not prejudiced against Drama majors, I'm not prejudiced against Drama majors...
*** "What do you mean, you want me to feel the music?! Eames, this is ridiculous." "Nonsense! Feel the character, Arthur! Be Betty!"
**** Instructors: let's talk about them. I like all of the instructors I've had so far, especially Julie, whom I already know, but I miss Bri. Dance just won't be the same without her. I know all the other dance instructors are also awesome and competent, but I think she was special. She was one of the nicest people I've met, and I think she really respected us as a class (not that other instructors don't, it's just... well). She was lovely and patient, and always took the time to make sure we were following and liking the choreography - and more than that, it was the little things that really highlighted her competence. Like how she would demonstrate things on both halves of the room so everyone could see, and how she ensured that lines were switched up regularly so everyone got a chance at the front. Videotaping the choreo for people to practice at home. Things like that, simple things that made class just that much more often. She was the first dance instructor (hiphop classes were just before lyrical) I've ever had, and I think I can say she will be remembered fondly as one of the best. <3
(aka: have you ever walked into a room and realized that you don't know any of the other occupants, even if they all know each other?)well. if that wasn't awkward, i don't know what was.

according to my icon, she's Up There reading SBP now...

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bitchy_merlin

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