Are we ever happy?

So she asked, my fellow sufferer and comrade against the vagaries of life. I came home to find another exam paper on my desk, asking questions that I'd rather not because my ignorance will break the dams of memory and drown me in the alphabet soup: a-n-x-i-e-t-y. Prozac, Remeron, odd names to match our odd histories and minds. How apt, another of life's ironies.

Were we happy today, the two cousins who came out to watch a play? Though I laughed, I was fraught with anxiety deep down inside wondering it the time and money was well spent. I have so much to do, more than I let myself be aware of - but that doesn't make sense, only as much as my essays.

I've always felt out of place since this Condition kicked in. Titles are attached to names, although I find more of myself in the title than the name. Being without it - a hollow 'student' - weighs heavily. I'm not sure what I'm writing anymore.

James Joyce, Boey Kim Cheng... I hate these bastards. They're too dense, too cryptic in their art, till the reader is no longer enthralled by their work. Art is to be enjoyed, not deciphered, unless the deciphering is enjoyable. Sieving through their writings bring me no joy, both as a student and as a reader. Is this 'high art'? Ridiculous.

Shit... I still haven't got the latest history lecture covered. This whole week has been a huge waste. My mind and body is weary from the severe lack of sleep and unable to sustain study... nor am I inclined to. The fact is that every sleepless day brings back bitter memories - the whole flood - and God has given me a little boat to bear it out. No ark, nothing so secure.

I feel like the school has let me down. Lousy history teacher, one lousy literature teacher, another bitchy one, and absolutely no one for KI. I believe the institution is supposed to serve my interests, not leave me out in the cold.

I'm too tired to swear, to rant, to rage. I sigh lightly, for that is all the weight I seem to be worth these days.

For the first time in months, I actually feel like dying again.