Overwhelmed, Much?

Can I kick it?

I mean, it' my blog, right?

So... twice this week, and for no (apparent) reason, I found myself crying. One episode occurred after meeting with Babel. It was the day I wrote the poem about when God made it hail outside. Who knows what caused it? The second episode occurred during class. Yes. Embarrassing. I know.

I was sitting in my Creative Spirit class. We were sitting in a half circle and presenting our 1min. performances (or what we had of them) to the class. My turn was soon approaching, and to be honest-I hadn't put much thought into what I would do for my final performance. The only thing I knew for sure is that I'd be performing a poem. So, I was thinking I'd do this "I Poet" piece, and just spit what I had of it for now. I mean, this was only practice. Then I thought about reciting the poem of apologies to myself, because the point of this performance is to open up and give people a chance to know you... then, I thought about performing one of the letters I wrote to my (deceased) mother.

So, during this thought process and while people are performing, I'm getting all choked up. And I could blame the letter to my mom, because I usually don't get through it BUT I can read the first half with no problems. Well, I used to be able to up until this day. I really don't think this letter had anything to do with it. In short, I stand in front of the class... start rambling about other things I consider doing, feel myself about to cry, begin the poem, and start crying. I try and pull it together, but it doesn't work. I apologize and sit down. At this time, I'm crying full out. And I mean, I have mixed emotions. I know the little piece of poem I got out spoke to a few in the class, because a girl came up to me telling me that she takes her parents for granted and think others should hear it. Another girl also has a deceased mother, and she wanted to know if writing letters really helped.

When heading to my seat, my teacher says, "Thanks for being brave." I get titled as 'brave', often. The funny thing is that I don't feel brave. I forgot to mention, that I've been having dreams that someone is trying to kill me. Sometimes it's a reoccurring dream, sometimes the killer is different, but I'm always running. A friend of mine told me that if I'm running from death in all my dreams (and I wake up right before I'm about to die) it means that I'm actually running from something in real life and it will be major once I confront it... hence, the reason I wake up. In some aspects, this makes sense, but (much like the dream)-I'm not ready to decipher what (or how many things) I'm running from... so, I'll let my subconscious work that one out.

Lastly- juggling two jobs, school work, and extracurriculars that I actually enjoy being a part of has proven to be a bit much. Not to mention, I'm hunting for a summer internship, and the location seems to be a major problem right now. I don't know where the hell I'm going to be.

Wait, one more "lastly"-I think I'm giving up on a friend here. And, if you pay attention to my blog or know me well, my heart hangs off my sleeve. Womp. Whatever the case, I'm sad that I feel the need to let them go. I love them to death, like-really. However, I feel like we've been pretending for sometime now that things are better than they are or trying to avoid it, and I'm over it. It's not the same. Yes, a poem will come from this. Actually, the poem will be my goodbye. I have that much figured out.

Go Tar Heels,

B