crooked fringe

i don’t think i’m built for university. i’m too high-strung. i fret for hours over the placement of a semi-colon. i’m plagued with disappointment at every mark, even an objectively good mark, because every handed-in essay is just a pale shadow of the better essay i meant to write. my gamut of positive emotions only runs as far as relief and never euphoria. i’m still fixated on vaguely sketched ‘ambitions’ instead of constructive ‘goals’. my ratio of procrastination:self-actualisation is really embarrassing. sometimes i can’t remember if the word “embarrassing” has one or two Rs until i write it out. these feelings don’t ebb and flow. i carry my stress with me all the time.

but i don’t think i’m wired for real adulthood either, yet or maybe ever, so, you know.

“nicole kidman’s other children”
“SAME impala”
“reasonable q-tip alternatives”
“exit vs exeunt”
“lockett pundt married”
“however comma at the beginning of a sentence is wrong??”
“splendour sideshows when”
“self-soothe”
“how to fix procrastination”

I’m not awfully frivolous, I swear.