You know, it felt like the end of the world today because of something very trivial. This very trivial thing meant something to me, though. It is stupid how much grades mean to me. I am tired of being so stressed and frustrated that I cry. This is not what a senior year should be: crying and stress and disappointment. Granted, stress should be present, but not this crippling amount that brings me to tears over mundane grades. I suppose that if colleges base their decision of admitting me to their school on one set of grades for one class then I do not want to be there. The thing that kills me is that none of this will matter in seven or eight months and I will know where I am going. And I guess if I still do not know what I am doing by then I will go out west and find something to do there.
All of these plans are so pointless, but I cannot help making them and hoping for them so much it hurts.
After cooling down it is easy to say these things, but in the middle of class, when nothing makes sense and everyone seems to be getting somewhere, learning at least something and I am stuck with nothing but confusion, ruffled hair, and tears in my eyes, it is not so easy. I guess it is hard to think that none of this amounts to much except a, "Yes!" or, "No!". Of course, that, "Yes!" or, "No!" will result in the next part of my life, but in short, that is it.