Dream big...

And try not to crash and burn like me when you do it...

So my life is a little crazy right now.
School has started back up again, for which I am eternally grateful.  Thus far, my classes, and professors, are fun and quirky, and engaging, and I'm so glad that I am here.
However.
Despite my lovely cheerleader exterior, I am in a constant freak-out mode.
What do I have to freak out about?  Let's see...
I'm turning twenty-five in less than a week.  And I have done NOTHING I wanted to do by this point in time.  I haven't gotten the million degrees I wanted.  I haven't published any novels.  I haven't written a popular song.  I haven't found the person I want to spend my life with.  Or, I have, but he hasn't found me in return, so it's useless.
My room has never been messier than it has been this last month.  You'd think, in a month, I could find the time, and the drive to clean.  But I'm easily distracted (I swear I'm ADD or something), or I'm running around, or I'm sleeping, and so the mess stays and grows and every time I turn around from my computer, I cringe, and turn right back, hoping that denial will actually make things go away.  Yeah, right.
My hands are shaking like ALL THE TIME.  Do you know what that does to a person?  Do you know what that does to a writer, to a pianist?  I'm constantly having to take a breath, tell myself to calm down, and wait for my hand to settle, for just five minutes, so I can focus on something other than how broken I am.  And that's besides the fact that my right hand likes to go numb at random intervals, and stay that way for days, even weeks, on end.
Also, if you hadn't heard, my family is a bit broken at the moment.  We're scattered, we don't talk to each other, and I can't fix anything, because I'm the farthest from all of them, and really, what could I do if I was there, except to smack somebody upside the head, or yell at someone, or...I'm useless.
And so I'm freaking out.
That, and the counselor at school thinks I'm bipolar, my friends think I'm suicidal (I keep TELLING them, I don't want to DIE, I just want to FEEL something), and I keep feeling like all my professors, great as they are, are looking at me with varying degrees of pity, despair, and disgust.
(That last bit might just be paranoia, but I still feel it, regardless)
Oh, and I'm in love with a fictional character.
Like really and truly, where it hurts.
Somebody give the girl a prize for only breaking down behind closed doors (offices or bedrooms), because I'm pretty sure you need a damned Olympic medal for all the persona up-keep I'm doing.

Somebody once said 'fake it til you make it.'
But I don't think I can fake it anymore.

Thank GOD for classes to distract me.  (I really do love school, you know?)

And yay for an emotional update when I've fallen off the radar for months...
Peace out.