Cracked.

Ever since I was a little girl, I have always been very sensitive.  If you do something mean to me, chances are I'll cry about it.  This is hard for me to admit because I like to pretend like I'm a big ole hard-ass (some of the time), but I'm just not.

When I was in the fourth grade, I met with one of my teachers for a conference and she told me I was too sensitive; that she could never give me constructive criticism about my work without tears welling up in my eyes.  That would be because I like to be the best at everything, especially academics.  If I don't do well on a test or paper in my eyes, I cry... which has happened several times this semester.  Clearly, finals week isn't my favorite time of the year.  I am like a baby in that if I am very tired, sleepy, or hungry, I am much more likely to cry.

Welcome to finals week.

Although I've only had one final (wait! don't let that fool you!) on Monday alone, I had 40 books to read, a 25 poem poetry file to do, and a research paper.  I had my final yesterday (I only had ONE hour of sleep and made a B, NOT okay), and today I had to turn in my 10-15 page paper.  Oye vey.  I haven't gotten more than 3 hours of sleep a night since last Friday.  I have taken a few naps here and there, but it just ain't the same (I know this is grammatically incorrect, but it is geographically correct, suckas).  I've gotta tell ya, this week has been very difficult for me to complete, but now I'm done!!! But I cried... a lot.  When I am under supreme amounts of stress, I'm much more susceptible to emotional trauma, and guess what?  It came.

So much has been going on in my life lately.  I am practically making myself sick about where I will be next year and what I will be doing.  Graduate school is my numero uno choice, but I don't find out about that until APRIL.  I haven't gotten to see my boyfriend much, and won't see him until January because of his work schedule.  Ugh.  Which means I won't get to see him for Christmas, my birthday, New Year's Eve, OR his birthday... joy to the world.  This has been my most difficult semester, academically, to note since I've been in college.  You know those classes that you spend most of your time on and only spend a few hours a few on the other ones?  I've been taking only those classes this semester.  I don't like making Bs and I have been.  I don't like Bs because they aren't As.

I digress.

Here's the situation: I am a sensitive lady.  I don't like to be made fun of;  IT ISN'T FUNNY.  So what happened this week?  You guessed it!  Made fun of.  I generally have a complete and utter emotional breakdown about once a year, sometimes once a semester.  Guess what happened yesterday?  BREAK.DOWN.

Sometimes all it takes is one little tap to send you over the edge.  But this wasn't a tap, it was a shove, except they didn't know it, they thought it was funny.  It is my understand that many objects of the male species find certain things funny that us females just don't.  Examples: the word "bitch," jokes involving sex or the sexual organs, physical violence, alcohol-induced stupidity, cheating, lying, cursing... you get the point.  I didn't grow up around boys, except for my Dad, and he's a deviation from the species, he's my Dad.  I grew up with my Mom and Dad, no one else in the house, generally.  They never told me I was ugly or fat or unintelligent or a loser.  Because they are great parents, and even greater friends.  Even after being in high school I guess I'm still not used to it.  In my mind, everyone loves me until proven otherwise.


Okay, I get it.  You've made your point.  You don't like me.  I'm sorry that you and your posse don't like me.  I really am.  I wish they did like me.  I've tried everything to be sweet, nice, friendly, and enjoyable to all.  I have tried to do everything nice (above and beyond that, even) that I can think of and apparently it didn't work.  But, like the Rolling Stones said, "You can't always get what you want..."

So, there you have it.  They cracked me.  I'm not superwoman, just a regular gal with tear ducts like everyone else.  Here's the good news.  I've become MUCH more aware of my actions and the things I say and do to others.  I never want to make anyone feel the way I have felt the past two days.  I guess all I can do is pray that they realize the hurt they have caused and learn not to do it again, to someone else.

Don't forget to love.