Cocoon

I keep making mistakes. I keep going backward. I feel like I'm stuck on one of those moving sidewalks, and I'm trying to walk backward. I'm not sure that's an accurate analogy. I feel like shit. Nothing I do is really right. I haven't even tried writing since the semester started. I'm failing at least 3 of my classes. Actually, make that 4. I'm not going to class. I'm not turning in my work on time. Normally I make it to class at least for the tests, but not this semester. I missed the second test in Methods. I've missed two tests in ASL. Ms. Klein never got my midterm paper for Deaf Culture. I don't know why, but she didn't. It doesn't matter. I only wrote half of it anyway. Why am I sucking so bad at this? My current GPA is 2.66. I got B's in both my summer classes. I was so proud of those B's. I never thought I would be happy about a B. What's happening to me? I don't journal anymore. I tried, but I felt like there was nothing I could write that would summarize this semester. I just need to pass all my classes. I can't worry about my GPA at this point. I just need to pass. Unfortunately, school isn't the only thing I'm worrying about.

I'm typing up my notes from my Deaf Culture class. Ms. Klein used this metaphor about a butterfly. The caterpillar is the process of learning. The cocoon is that time when you face your struggles. The butterfly symbolizes flying free when you know who you are. Who am I? I've never known how to answer that. Sure, there are my textbook answers: I'm a girl. I'm a Christian. I grew up in the South. Then there's all that other stuff: I'm a lesbian, a cutter, a poet. I'm clinically depressed. I deal with anxiety on a daily (sometimes hourly) basis. I can sleep for upwards of 15 hours a day. I'm a wannabe poet. I'm a decent singer (who can't get out of bed to go to choir practice at 12:30 in the afternoon). But who am I, really? This summer, at the CCM house, Jason supposedly described me as "a depressed lesbian." I suppose that's how people see me. Kelsey calls me her "dikey roommate." But is that all I am? I'm white. Is that an active part of my identity? Is my white-ness as important as my gay-ness? Does my 1% Irish-ness matter at all? What about my tend toward obsession? Or the fact that I like being drunk a little too much? How about that I smoke secretly at night? Does my rocky relationship with my parents explain my outburts toward my girlfriend? Why do I act the way I do? I know I should be better, but I don't know how to change. I feel so lost. Not that that's any different from the last 18 years. I'll be 19 in a week and a half. Am I still a teenager? Does it matter?

I'm a bad student. I'm a bad daughter. I'm a bad girlfriend. I'm a bad person. Or, at least, that's how I see myself.