Feelings are…confusing. And frustrating. My thoughts have this thing they do where they refuse to turn off, even when I try to make them, and I’m not sure what to do about that.

Also, I have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow. Terrific.

There’s something very refreshing about being able to cry and scream until your throat is raw and your head is light and spinning. Something akin to peace results, and you can’t be scared of the outcome even though things are horrible and you wish you could throw away your family.

Ironic how lovely things and awful things in my life can occupy such close spans of time; my birthday sleepover—which followed another familial meltdown in which there was screaming and I was crying but that was ok because it was just me in tears; this time it was my mom and my brother and maybe Dad cried, too, when the phone was down—was so wonderful and we had such a fantastic time and Sweeney Todd was delightfully melodramatic (although very few people in the movie could sing.) And, of course, the food was adored.

Happiness doesn’t know how to last, I guess.

I’m calm now, though, which is good because I have to put on a calm and smiling face for my interview with Occidental. After all, it’s a hope for escape. Lord knows I need one of those.

I've been back for a few hours and already I'm furious.

However insecure I might be about my chances to get into where I hope to go, I can't wait to be out of this house for good.

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I don't know what to do.

There's nothing I can do. That's the problem. It's always the problem.

I hate time. I hate progression and accumulation and how one second can change so much and you don't even realize it.

I think I've gone into shock. Not figuratively, but literal shock. I can't feel any emotions except a horrible pain in my head. I can't breathe properly. My thoughts are freaking and shrieking but I can't feel my emotions. I can't even feel worry, even though I know just how serious it is to go into shock.

How could that have happened? How could I not have realized it? Surely I realized it.

It's like a shot of Novocaine to the heart; it feels pierced, swollen, but mysteriously numb except for the nerves that have been scraped raw and scream. The women are friendly--funny that they're all women; your real doctor's a man; you haven't seen him in months--but their job is the piercing and scraping.

Then, three hours after arriving, you can leave, and you're starving but you can't eat. Your poor mother is clearly impatient, but she takes you somewhere for a smoothie (the one benefit over a root canal; at least you can have a smoothie, a milkshake, something easy to digest.) Strawberry-mango. They give you the added flavor free, and a size bigger than you paid for, and though you thank them it's a little jarring. Are they really that kind, or do they know?

Like my life is a body part shot with Novocaine. I'm aware of its existence, but it doesn't feel like part of me.

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I had been of the impression that my college list was finally complete, my having nitpicked to the greatest extent of my ability. I’m having second thoughts, though. Pomona, Occidental, and Lewis & Clark are still golden. UW Honors is still…meh, but ok. Yale is still the least cringe-worthy of the colleges my parents wish to push on me. I am, however, getting less enthusiastic about Wesleyan. I passionately adore the college, to the point where at times I might have called it my top choice, but I don’t believe I’d go. Not when it charges over $50,000 a year and gives no merit scholarships. And I think my bitching about Stanford is fairly well-known around these parts.

The correct answer would be to lay it aside from the moment and see how the visit to Occidental (the visit to Pomona being a nonissue because it’s slightly more selective and definitely my top choice) and the early application to Yale go, but my brain doesn’t work that way. It wants to BE DECIDED ALREADY.

Blergh. I wanted to be done with apps by now. I realize I’m still ahead of…well, every junior-who-is-now-a-senior I know. But I feel behind.

ETA after revisiting research: Oh, who am I kidding? No way I'm not applying to Wesleyan. I love it to bits and there's no supplement anyway; I'll deal with price if I'm actually accepted. And Stanford is a much easier concern to lay aside. So I worried needlessly. Whee! =D

Hi, my name is Sophia and I'm an idiot. I give up when I'm not ready to let go and then I try to toe at bridges long since burned, only to find my foot in ash. And I should probably private or at least filter this entry, but I won't bother, because. I. Am. An. Idiot. Who probably wouldn't even realize she hadn't fucking privatized or filtered what was supposed to be a fucking private or filtered entry.

Clearly I am also an idiot who curses a lot. And how are you today?

On the bright side, I am an idiot Pomona put on their mailing list. Yay.

It is quite chilly today. I'm not a fan of chill. Chill means my feet are dead white and my fingers achingly cold and I have to wear winter clothes even though it really isn't winter weather. My head and stomach and throat have, at different or coinciding times, been acting up all day, as has a random muscle in my arm that keeps tensing up violently. Such circumstances tend to have me studying college, but at this point I sincerely can't think of a thing that I haven't studied.

Today until about two o'clock in the afternoon was terrible.