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2009-09-28, 2:17 a.m.

Swimming itchy in a sea of graph paper and books. Writing down numbers for therapists covered by my insurance, but knowing that I won't make time to see them. It's mostly a threat to myself. If I don't fix my mind I'll have to waste time on someone who might do it.

I found out today that I need to do research with a professor in order to get out of the school I'm in now, otherwise I'll have my BA, MA and PhD from the same place. UGH. I made a wrong decision. I should have gone as a non matriculated student somewhere else. But it just felt like a slap in the face. Here I am justifying decisions and piling on panic attacks. The chemicals circulate until morning and then they explode.

I should sleep but I can't. So this is why grad students have bloodshot eyes, under eye circles and disheveled hair. It all makes sense. My boyfriend says it's because we're turning into mini Einsteins.