This machine is dying.

Let's just get this out of the way.
Whatever I say is probubly over dramatic and completely unture, but this is how I am feeling at this moment.

My life sucks.
I am sick of needing to depend on people.
I am sick of being dependent on everyone to help me do things.
I am sick of not being who I am.
I am sick of being what everyone wants me to be.

I am sick of people effecting how I feel.

I want to be my own damn person.
I would appreciate if everyone would just get off of my case.

I wish I could just say how I am feeling out loud.
I wish I didn't need a blog for my mental health.

Let me explain wht is going on lately:
1)
Women remember. A lot.
I don't express when something hurts me.
I just kind of store it away until it eats me alive.
For the past four months, everything that Dan has said that has effected me in a negative way, I just pushed it aside.
Well, there is no more room in my head for these things.
Keep in mind, the amount of space I save for these things isn't very large.
Still.
The room is full and about to burst.
2) People. People people people.
We were supposed to finish our podcast today, seeing as it was supposed to be due Wednesday, but Wednesday is a weird day for Sophomores, blah blah blah.
*Greene reschedualed it for Thursday. Thank. Goodness.*
Not the point. Yes, I am pointing fingers. I did what I was supposed to do.
I need a good grade in this class, goddamnit and I AM going to get it.
Melissa is sick today. That's fine. I understand. She has her flashdrive. Whatever. She's sick. I understand.
But there is NO excuse for these two.
Our group is made of four people. Five? Whatever. Four that I know of.
It's a 30 minuite podcast. Each person has to fill up seven minutes, or something like that.
Not important.
What is important is that we were assigned this back in the beginning of December.
600 words is not hard to write in a months time. Not hard at all.
It's due in three days. THREE. DAYS.
We're supposed to be recording.
But these two haven't even FINISHED their stories.
THEY HAVEN'T FINISHED THEIR STORIES.
I don't yell. Expecially not AT people.
Today, I did for the first time in years.
Years.
I have done two stories. 700 words each.
1,400 words, and they haven't even finish 700 combined.
Seriously.
Come. On.
Melissa and I are doing all of this damn work while they just sit back and goof off.
Pisses me off.
3) Recently I have realized that what I want to do with my life, I can't.
I can't do both things.
I can't be a veterinarian and a journalist. It just can't happen.
My time would be completely taken up by one or the other.
I like to sleep, so I can't be a journalist. At least, I can't be the journalist I want to be.
I'm not a fan of science, so I can't be a vet.
I can either be a low-core journalist, writing for some lame magazine or newspaper that nobody reads, or be a terrible vet.
Shoot.

The future isn't looking good.
Not for Spencer
And not for the world.
In other words,
This machine is dying.