Its 1:05 am and I cannot sleep. My thoughts seem to be locked onto the crazy events that happened today. A lot of fuss has been going on in my head eversince. This and that. Me and them. Mine and ours. Him and her. Him and me. Its one concern after another and they clash altogether to create a big mess in every inch of grey matter. And because I have an emotional capacity of a tea cup, I shut down.

Disaster.

Today I realized there's a possibility that I may have an uncontrollable tendency to overreact to certains kinds of things. I may not have been aware that I've been doing it for a very long time now. But deductive reasoning tells me I do.

My obsessive-compulsiveness has failed me in my desperate attempts to hold onto every piece of my Third Term Schedule as I clicked and clicked on the necessary buttons on my online enrollment endeavors. One down, two... oh wait. What's this? This prof... he's taken. My prof. His slot was marked in bright red font: Closed. There was a ten second lag in the neurotransmittors connecting to the synapses in my body. No message from my brain got through. Time could have stopped and the world could have ended within those ten seconds and I wouldn't have even noticed it. I WAS NOT THINKING. Brought back to reality by my darling friends, I remembered I still had five more subjects to enroll. Ten seconds plus sixty of frustrated panicking. You don't need to do the math to predict the outcome of this situation.

I die.

I shall not go into detail of how I was able to take everything in once everything was over. Once you've realized that its over, emotions surge out of you untrollably. And in my case,... well, like i said, I dare not go into detail. My point was just this: if this is the kind of emotional trauma these students go through every term, the problem has to be with me, right? logically, this kind of student-eat-student death race for the best slots would kill anyone. I mean, the waiting and sucky internet connection was bad enough. Did we (did I) overpsyche ourselves (myself) out? Was it wrong to prepare prior to this knowing how crazy it was going to be?

A few souls lingering around prayed my anxiety disorder wouldnt take me as I sat infront of my laptop that time. They were thinking exactly what I was thinking: Not here. Not now. Not infront of them. Have mercy on your friends and spare them from the horrific sight of your psychological defects.


But remember, Yaji, the world continues to revolve with or without you. Tomorrow doesn't care for what you're going through now. No matter how sucky today gets. You have to remember, you still have to face tomorrow. -- AND I MEAN, CRITHIN.

To be honest, a lot of good things happened today. Their numbers could even weight out this very unfortunate event. So I should probably be happy as well.

But I really do want to cry.

I am very frustrated right now.

I have a bad case of inferiority complex. I almost always compare myself with just about everybody. That is a confession. Most often, the attempt to be indifferent toward what others may think about you is obviously just a placebo, much less the detached behavior of referring to yourself as a kind of separate species from the human population. To approach the world with such cynisim, I admit that's a little too sad. That is a confession. I am most likely to die from schizotypal obsession, recklessly pushing myself to suffice other people's expectations, than to die fromm getting hit by a bus in Taft. That is a confession (in statistical form). I know what I can be and cannot be. I know myself very well. That is the truth. My famous line, "hindi ako magpapatalo", which I often refer to the things that irk and test my competence in just about anything (i.e., baking instant brownies that, to me, arent so instant and bakeable). This is a prediction. That line would be the death of me.

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