When I look into your eyes
I can see a love restrained
But darlin' when I hold you
Don't you know I feel the same
'Cause nothin' lasts forever
And we both know hearts can change
And it's hard to hold a candle
In the cold November rain
Siren's Song
Monday, December 15, 2003
There is something on my mind. For many days I've tried to push it to the back of my head, tried not to think about, or even go remotely near it. I spend many a night away from home, away from my email inboxes, away from the foul tabletop that supports the offensive letter of offer. As much as I tried to run and hide and ignore and neglect it, I still have to come face to face with it.
Is that why I chose to slumber on and on and on? I took another two drowsiness-causing tablets today. Yet comforting sleep evades me. Sleep - the only place I can stop pondering over certain things and let my subconscious take over. Sometimes, even nightmares are better than making a decision.
It's simple enough. A letter of offer means a simple "I accept" or "I do not accept". Yet the thought process that's going on inside me now's threatening to tear me apart. Is this really what I want? Am I really ready to give up my honours year for a chance to go overseas for a postgrad degree? Most importantly, am I good enough for it?
I'm thinking too much already. I've put in so much effort to go through the tortorous application process and went through endless rounds of interviews, just to give myself more shit as to whether or not to accept it. What the phiak am I doing to myself?
I need a hug. I need to cry. I need to bawl and scream and sob and sniff. I need to rain out my frustration and tumultuous emotions, pour them out and hurl them everywhere. I am at a loss. I am, very lost.
I've got a devious impish thought within me. It says I go ahead to take up the offer, then flung my GRE real bad so that no decent American Uni will accept me. That way, the offer will not stand.
Gahs. Blahdee hell. What's my scholarship officer doing overseas when I need her most?
