Crossing the line between the want of perfectionism and just plain lunacy

I am trying so very hard to keep from losing my head over the Biology test in school tomorrow. I'm topping the class so far, but I have a definite feeling things are going to be a little different in that light tomorrow. I hate when my nervousness takes over me. It's exactly like the depression, in some ways. There's not much I can do once I'm in. Well, to be entirely truthful, there's not much I try to do about it either. I feed in to a lot of my own insecurities by not being assertive or sensible enough.

*sigh*

It's just a 20 mark test. I just don't understand why such insignificant things (in the long run at least) shape up to seem like a matter of life and death for me, till I am neck deep in my own self-made hell of negativity and scared anticipation.

Wow...one heck of a boring-ass entry, eh?




On a different note, I went to the train station to drop off my grandparents this afternoon. I hate going there, and generally avoid doing that unless it's an absolute necessity. The poverty around me still pains me. It still makes me want to cry when I see a little child begging for money to have food.

I can never say no. I always end up giving away whatever money or change I have left in my wallet. My parent's aren't that way. Don't get me wrong; they're not stingy. Neither do they actively desire to be unhelpful. But they don't part with their money that easily when it comes to beggars and homeless people as compared to me. I am in no way trying to sound like Miss Godliness here. But it genuinely does pain me a great deal when people like my parents, who are fortunate enough to live a life of comfort and of getting most if not all of their wants fulfilled, have second thoughts about sharing a little with the less endowed.

I got into an argument about that with them at the train station and ended up crying halfway through my father's speech about "passing around the hat" and how he doesn't get as emotionally affected by the situation. I got away with an-"I got something in my eye" and turning away to face the railway tracks. I can never be comfortable or okay with my mother seeing me cry. There's too much history there.

He gave me his handkerchief which I pretended to rub against my eyes till I was "okay".

Sometimes I wonder if I'm too sensitive emotionally, for my own good. But then again, just because reality is cruel doesn't mean it affects you and me any less.

I don't know.


I don't feel so good today...