Mon, May 19-20th 2025 <Happy Birthday Meme> | Finals & Some Other Stuff

Mon, May 19-20th 2025 <Happy Birthday Meme>

Note to self: Never write directly to SpaceHey unless I'm dying for my entry to refresh and dissappear. I've been journaling all day, working on a voluptuous blog update—introspective, comedic, and touched up with beloved irony. What sucks, though, is that I can't even begin to recap or recreate what I was thinking before everything vanished. Nevertheless, the show must go on.
I left off debating if the names of people I'll mention should be redacted or fictionalized. Truthfully, it wouldn't matter. It's not like anyone knows me here, nor will the SpaceHey Police get me for name dropping that girl from 5th period. As it stands now, I don't think it matters any. But even so, I feel aversive to doing so. It feels wrong. Wrong, especially because I'd like to invite people I know IRL to the website, and them hypothetically viewing my stuff and seeing their names would make for a rather.... interesting conversation. It's not that I have anything bad to say about anyone I'd potentially invite, but it still: the thought lingers and looms; it strikes me as a recipe for disaster. My thoughts, especially those about others—they're intensely layered. It's like everyone has their own portfolio in my head. I wonder if I have one inside theirs. Maybe. There's more a chance many think the same rather than just one against many, hence the term anomaly. Even so, sometimes it does feel that I am just that—an anomaly. I have this resignation about me, immune to stuff that happens, uncaring to what I do. It's weird and wishy washy because at times, that 'immunity' just breaks and I fail to but a gust of wind.

Today, especially, I'm trying to hone my immunity. It's finals, like I'd mentioned, and for me, I only need to care about 2—ie the ones for the classes I'm doing the worst in. It sucks that they're both in the same day. And it sucks worse that I have the same amount of faith in either of them. I blew a dandelion for luck. Deep down, I know I'm not stupid. I know I care about academic success. Things just went wrong a bit ago, and while I would say it doesn't define me, there's genuinely no way to escape the fact that it genuinely does. As for what happened, it's a story for another time. I crashed out, truly. I crashed out hard and deep feelings came out–thoughts, insecurities, vulnerabilities. I question if I can say people were there for me. Physically, yes, but actually? Probably not. I wasn't a concern until my performance was being afflicted.

I'd like to talk on this another time, but for now, I'se gotta tackle these finals. From a psychological perspective, if I assume I know what I'm doing, I'll naturally perform better. ┐('～`;)┌

Cya