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Well, I'm officially having an anxiety attack. Hopefully this won't progress into a full nervous breakdown; it's been over a year since I've had one of those, and God knows I don't need to start that back up again.
I am freaking out about Yale.
I am out of money. I need to buy a car. I don't have a place in New Haven yet. I haven't finished my thesis. I haven't yet managed to accomplish this week's mission, and in three weeks I won't live here anymore, and my chance will be gone, and I'll regret this the same way I regret Gareth. I'm moving to Connecticut, which I cannot type because there are too many c's in it, where it will be cold, where everything is really close together and all the towns have less than 125,000 people, where I won't know anyone, and which is 3000 miles away from California, which I dearly love. Have I made the wrong decision? I'm throwing myself full-speed ahead into graduate school, and I still don't know what I want to do with my life. I don't think I want to be a professor. I kind of want to be a doctor, but it's a bit late for that at this point, don't you think? Maybe I should have thought about that a year ago, before I got accepted to Ph.D. programs in cell biology. Good thinking, Kara. Way to change your mind nine or ten months too late.
I feel so alone. I'm leaving everything--EVERYTHING--I've ever known and loved, packing up my belongings into a car I don't even own yet, haven't even imagined yet, and driving across the country to start a life in an apartment I haven't rented yet, and this is all happening in less than a month. Three weeks from tomorrow, I will GRADUATE from this university, and it will be behind me forever. How the hell did I get this far, and still stay so confused?
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. I really hope I'm not going to regret this in one, two, five, or fifteen years.
I am freaking out about Yale.
I am out of money. I need to buy a car. I don't have a place in New Haven yet. I haven't finished my thesis. I haven't yet managed to accomplish this week's mission, and in three weeks I won't live here anymore, and my chance will be gone, and I'll regret this the same way I regret Gareth. I'm moving to Connecticut, which I cannot type because there are too many c's in it, where it will be cold, where everything is really close together and all the towns have less than 125,000 people, where I won't know anyone, and which is 3000 miles away from California, which I dearly love. Have I made the wrong decision? I'm throwing myself full-speed ahead into graduate school, and I still don't know what I want to do with my life. I don't think I want to be a professor. I kind of want to be a doctor, but it's a bit late for that at this point, don't you think? Maybe I should have thought about that a year ago, before I got accepted to Ph.D. programs in cell biology. Good thinking, Kara. Way to change your mind nine or ten months too late.
I feel so alone. I'm leaving everything--EVERYTHING--I've ever known and loved, packing up my belongings into a car I don't even own yet, haven't even imagined yet, and driving across the country to start a life in an apartment I haven't rented yet, and this is all happening in less than a month. Three weeks from tomorrow, I will GRADUATE from this university, and it will be behind me forever. How the hell did I get this far, and still stay so confused?
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. I really hope I'm not going to regret this in one, two, five, or fifteen years.
