The time has come that the end is nigh. The next three posts will reflect on the cumulative year and the horrors of the stress that bad computers make. I say the end is here because this is the last week and I am three posts away from completion.
The time that I have spent blogging has been a personal Hell that I can not describing in English. In German it would be "Feuer pinkeln" meaning to pee fire. It was only like this because of the way my schedule works. My divorced parents only complicated the mess, but the fact that I only have one computer that is good for writing blogs and I got the least access to it meant a lot of frustration was waiting. I work a lot. 20-25 hours a week. On top of 35 hours of school a week and activities on the weekend resulting in about 10 more hours gave me no breaks in my 65-70 hour weeks. When I had breaks, I slept. No exceptions. When I had time to write, my mind was blown up. I just worked six hours on top of seven hours of school, why would I want more work? I bit my metaphorical bullet, to only realize that it was anthrax pill, because it made me resent blogs to a point that each blog's theme was about how education was terrible and how blogs are worthless (which I maintain).
The only days that I always had off were Sundays, for good reason. I had church in the morning and in the hours between 12 and 4:30, I did home work. At 5, I was at Upward Bound at Coe College, doing more home work and getting help along with socializing with friends (which my dad and his gf think is something punishable by death). I usually got home with about an hour of home work left. I was tired, but I dragged on to go to bed at about 12 or 1. I then slept till 5:30 whereupon I took a shower and started my week.
Usually, each week, I maintained and increased a massive sleep debt. accompanied by those nights where I was forced to stay up till 3am doing blogs (like tonight/this morning). It really wore me down, especially when all of my friends were doing fine, where as, I was struggling. It wore me down so much that at one time I was in such a severe depression that I did nothing for a week but sit in my room thinking about how absolutely terrible I was and going to work, putting on the false bravado that men must at all times. I sat and listened to how I was stupid and how inconsiderate I was or how I wouldn't "open up." I sat around for those times where my mind would relent on my words that I used and I hurt someone on this very blog. I still feel like I'm a terrible person, but it is easier to maintain my suit of armor now with sleep.
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