School ended last week. I had my last “final” on Wednesday but couldn’t actually leave until Friday since I couldn’t get a ride. This turned out to be a good thing. My room was absolutely, positively mutherfucking trashed and it ended up I could use the time to get my shit together.
I spent Friday and Sturday night not sleeping much and Sunday night Not. Sleeping. At. All. Come around 4 o’clock Sunday morning I realize I’m typing a little fast, feeling a little “funny”, walking up and down the halls with a lot of fucking pep.
Just the fact that I am voluntarily walking up and down the halls should be a flag, really.
I also have some pretty whacky ideas that are starting to come to me. I’m well into hypomanic and heading toward the grey area of manic but I can’t sleep because I have a paper due in three and a half hours and a painting due a few hours after that. I plan on going an hour late to the first final session, when the paper is due so it will buy me some time, but not a lot. I’m freaking out, but I have this strange kind of calm where I’m not do that thing where I crying until I can’t open my eyes anymore. Also, I’m feeling this almost… clarity. So. Yeah. Something is up with the brain. But I can’t stop to deal with that.
I don’t even finish the paper after all that but I wind up late to the session anyway, was supposed to present my paper, and did it anyway despite not having finished it. I got another extension on the paper.
A few days ago my laptop was taken with the paper on it, so I had to start it again. But I finished it, and it was a fucking bastard of a paper, and I got an A on it. Good thing, it is worth 25% of my grade.
I finished the painting after the first session with like a half hour of drying time to spare and the teacher loved it. I, on the other hand, thought it was a piece of crap.
Next time someone wants to ask me why I feel school is a threat to my mental health I will direct them here.