When words don't help, drugs do.

It is 2:30 in the morning, why am I up?, well I am having a giant anxiety attack. It’s graduate school and will I make it and can I compete with students who are really really smart, and I am a non-traditional student and not really really cute, and my ass well it is not where it used to be and, my breasts are not perky, and I have gray hair and wrinkles and wear trifocals and limp and am partially deaf and most of the time smell like Ben gay. So, isn’t that enough to have an anxiety attack.

I woke up, sweating from a bad dream about having lost my notebook and when I finally saw it and opened it, my teacher had written in red letters that C came after B not before A. I am supposed to be in comparative lit graduate school and couldn’t keep the alphabet in order. I got out of bed and I ran to the bathroom and washed my face and looked in the mirror and squinted until I put my glasses on and this old woman looked back and I went Yikes and took the glasses off and cleaned them and peaked back and yikes she was still there and I said fuck I need to fill in those fissures and faults on my face and then did a total geological survey of my face and neck and while the neck doesn’t have many wrinkles the face, well she has seen better days.

I immediately went downstairs, a feat in itself, and turned on the pc and started looking for words to make me feel good and found an email from a friend who is my age or older and is in graduate school already and she told me how the professors and all those people who are advisors and stuff like that like the young, cute, and rich, and I am going fucked fucked fucked. Yep, I don’t fit in any of those categories, and I am fucked.

So, I drank an entire diet cola in one sip and burped really loud and began chewing my nails. What have I got myself into now? I am so thinking that if I flunk out, I will lose face, considering the look of my face not a bad thing, but lose face and have to crawl back to the little hole in the wall where I came from and face all those people who have admired my determination and all of that and knowing they would say things like knew she couldn’t do it and who the hell did she think she was going off like that to be somebody.

Then I remembered I am certifiably crazy, have good drugs, and I got another pop, yep pop that’s what we poor folks call them, and took a Xanax and Pain pill and finally am feeling better. Let those young assed good looking rich assed kids smoke their good pot and drink their trendy drinks, by god, I have legal drugs and I can take them anywhere and not get into trouble. I am one up already.

Okay, I think I have it under control for another night. Maybe, just maybe I can do this.