breaking point

I didn't think I was going to have a nervous breakdown. The closest thing I've gotten to that is a quiet, tired stupor. But I think we're gettin' there. This particular situation's got all the fixin's for some good ol'... curl-up-in-a-ball-and-weep. Right now I'm too tired to cry. So that's good, right? Can someone adopt my unit for like two weeks while I isolate myself in a homework cave? I love them a lot and having to escape constantly makes me feel like they don't deserve me right now.

The amount of love, support, and encouragement that I have received this semester is mind boggling. My mind is boggled. And it's funny, because I feel as though the words of encouragement/etc came riiiight as I was maybe thinking about being very stressed out. They caught me so early that I was always caught before I felt utterly buried. I just spent a full minute trying to figure out how to spell "buried." But now, by no fault of anyone outside of myself, I'm drowning. I'm deep down and I just had that lung-jerking realization that I'm probably going to have to inhale before I reach the surface. Encouragement is still there. Love is still evident. My friends and family support me. But external forces don't seem to hold much weight. If anything, "You're doing good" sounds like a lie and "Baby steps" sounds like an ignorant diagnosis.

And NOW there's some chick in the study lounge talking to her boyfriend on Skype. Lights blaring -- voice squawking. I don't know if she noticed my bungalow. I don't know HOW she could miss it. There are three sets of shoes, a coat, a stack of 20 (literal) books, a heavy backpack, a laptop, a mug, papers, notepads... I felt personally affronted. It took me six trips to get everything out of there. .... I'll stop.

I'm grumpy to the point that a good church dinner and a successful Deck the Halls event mean zilch to me right now. They took up time.