I had a nervous breakdown today. It was inevitable. And it was bad. I had so much shit on my mind, and so many things that I had to do and just couldn't do, and I as rushing out the door, late, realizing that I had forgotten most of my stuff. I was already beginning to feel sick. Then my toolbox came open when it fell of the bed. I fell down and I just started crying and I couldn't stop. Of course, today was a horrible day to have this happen because it also happened to be a critique day for my painting class, apparently something thats not good to be late too. But I couldn't stop crying and my stuff was still all over the floor.

I called my mom at work, she wasn't there. I called her cell phone and she didn't answer. I don't know what my goal was is calling her, its not like there was anything she or I could say to make me better. So I packed up again, forgot most of my stuff again, and ran to the school. I was on time. I told the teacher that I had an appointment and had to leave 1.5 hours early. Everyone was jealous that I had a valid reason for leaving early. They joked about making up excuses. It was fucking made up! This year, I have not once had a valid reason for missing class. I tell people that I have appointments and stuff, when my actual reason is something more like, "I think I might have left Sha Sha locked in the bathroom, I really want to get home to check and make sure she's okay..." But teachers wouldn't buy that.

Today, I could not stay in class though. My eyes were watery and burning, and I know that if anyone were to actually say anything to me, I would've burst into tears. I couldn't be there. I'm not going to my next class. I'm thinking about dropping it. I have until Thursday to decide. I know, in the end, I'll end up keeping it because I hate the thought of wasting so much time and money. But even if I continue, the money will still be wasted, and so will even more time.

I came to the conclusion that I am a horrible student (gee, it took you that long, Weezie?). It doesn't matter where I go or what I study, I'm going to suck at it. Just because I'm good at certain things, like drawing, doesn't make me a good drawing student. I can't follow directions, I have a horrible memory, which is severly affecting the quality of my work, and I can't concentrate. Why bother transferring to a different school next year? I'll probably do even worse at anything else, since drawing is the only thing that I can do sort of well at all. And even art school is kicking my ass.

I contemplated calling Jeff or my dad, but whats the point? Theres nothing I can really say at this point. All I do is complain to them, and I have to sound more whiny now than ever before. Nothing right now is going to satisfy me, or make me feel better either. All I want to do is run away and take Sqrrrl with me. I want to go to a park, and hide in the woods.

Today I went to the memorial park by my house. It was an odd mixture of homeless men and little kids. I sat there for about 10 minutes, its so beautiful out. But I couldn't keep my mind off the fact that I'm skipping 2 classes today, and the 3rd I left early. There was a buddhist monk at the park too. He was meditating. I don't know if I've ever wanted to change lives with someone else so bad, except maybe May 8th, 2002. Buddhist monks know what they want, and they work towards it. I'm a big mess with too many ideas, and no motivation or skills to acheive any of them.

When I was a little kid, all I ever wanted to do was be at home. Whenever I cried, I would just say, "I wanna go home". I was around eleven when I started saying that while I was already at home. I didn't feel like that was my home. I kinda feel that way now. This isn't my home. St. Johns definitely isn't my home. Home is where you feel comfortable and right, and I think my only home is Jeff, and I can't go to him, no matter how badly I want to.