I’ve been so off lately. I’ve also been offline. The shift and enter buttons on my keyboard broke. I don’t know how–perhaps it’s just a cruel twist of fate? *laughs* Either way, since I was unable to correctly format anything, I simply couldn’t use the computer. This of course happened the day before I had three term-assignments due. Each was actually due much earlier, but I’m so uselessly obsessive that I never manage to pass any work in because it isn’t ‘perfect.’ Two months ago the University finally realised what was going on, and asked that I work with one of their Language and Learning specialists. The language-centre keeps a USB drive on which I save my work. In short, I’m so useless that I can’t write without someone in the room or the assignments will be deleted for being flawed.

    Which isn’t the problem. It’s clearly -a- problem, but it’s not -the- problem.

    The problem is that I only managed to complete one assignment on time. Since handing anything in will allow me to re-sit the papers, the department made me pass in the outlines that I had written. This was not okay. It is still not okay. To make matters worse, I absolutely broke in front of others–something I refuse to do as it both shows weakness and inconveniences others. All of this inconvenience others. I am as well.

    Anyway, I was told to pass in two incomplete works and asked if I would be okay doing so. Usually I’m able to maintain a sense of cheerfulness and humour about all of this nonsense, but the combination of failures (failing to complete work by a deadline twice in a row, and failing to do satisfactory work–among others), were a bit too much. So, I burst into tears and started babbling nonsense. Mortifying. Absolutely mortifying. Twenty-one years old and curled-up crying like an infant and refusing to move because I can’t complete a task. It’s my fault. I need to handle that.

    It really didn’t help that my land-lady had called the night before to ask why I hadn’t replied to her letter. I’ve told her many times that I will stay on at the property and am actually mid-term currently (she forgot when the contract started…), but she wanted me to write to, once again, confirm. Sadly, I’m too lame to manage to hand-write a letter and it’d taken me days to get the composition and spacing perfect and then the sheet was folded incorrectly (it must be in perfect thirds), and I couldn’t place the stamp right, and–ugh. Everything is always such trouble. Oh, but this relates to my idiocy the next day because not having a place to live is my number one trigger. I was always kicked out of my parents house whenever I did anything that wasn’t ‘perfect.’ Somehow this includes putting effort into anything (having to try means that you aren’t flawless enough to find the task simple) and not knowing something (because perfect people know everything, right). Pfft! Weird humans, they are. Anyway, if you did something that didn’t live up to their standards, it was because you shouldn’t have been born, don’t deserve them (since everyone is just scrambling to be in Their great presence… *laughs*), and really, honestly shouldn’t have been born. It’s untrue, clearly. The two of them are just strange. Despite this, every time anything about housing arises, I just… guh. It’s like reverse obsession. I might lose my house and so I am inadequate, should never have been born, don’t deserve to exist, etc. Isn’t it supposed to go the other way? I’m inadequate and so I get kicked out of the house because nothing as flawed as I am could possibly be Their child and so I shouldn’t be living with them ( of course, after a while they’d decide that I had to return and come scold me for leaving–no mention of being kicked-out *laughs*).

    Ah, but, hey, ignore me being emo! XD; *hates drama more than…anything* Either way, this is the stupid, entirely… frustrating not-logic behind all of my actions: oh, wow, I didn’t place my foot correctly…I am flawed, inadequate and should not have been born.’ Hm… over-the-top? The worst part is that I both do and don’t realise that this isn’t the case. I -feel- that it is the case. Emotionally I -know- that it’s the case. Logically, intellectually, I understand that what I’m thinking is obsessive nonsense. Wow, this composition is redundant.

    Have I mentioned that the reason that the buttons on my keyboard broke is because the internal batteries over-heated and exploded? Right! Contamination. Everything is contaminated. Toxic, awful, contamination.

    And I’m so scatterbrained… I ignored the original story. The assignments. They were eventually handed in, after much yelling at myself (and being walked to the submission counter…shameful, pathetic…guh). Once the work as out of my hands, things got even worse–here is the not-logic: this work is incomplete and AWFUL and wrong and should not exist and now it’s out floating around and I can’t destroy it and others can see it and I really just need to die because the horrible nonsense that I have produced will waste a person’s time and furthermore I am a shameful, inadequate excuse for a life-form who can’t do anything correctly because she A.) Fails (with a capital ‘F’), and B.) is too concerned with order and correctness to do anything at all. This also entails a lack of logic and willpower and shows a lack of strength as well as the blatant presence of insanity.’ Whoa. *random laughing* I actually can’t convince myself out of it, either! Is that all that strange? Having ‘…or I am’s instead of ‘…or____will’s (i.e., ___must happen or I am ____’ instead of ‘I must do/be_____or ____will occur’ ).

    It really, really, really makes things worse that I become severely ill as a result of all of this. Haha, joy? I can’t even angst correctly! XD; Who gets -that- physically sick from OCD? How lame. Oh, and no offence intended to others that happen to respond similarly. It’s one of the many things that’s fine for others but intolerable in oneself.

    Bah. That’s one of the worst things about OCD: knowing that you’re being illogical, understanding where this flawed logic comes from, and -still being incapable of shaking yourself out of your own head. I despise it. So. Very. Much.

    And this needs to be posted before I delete it. It’s too long, poorly-composed and redundant again…it’s all over the place. Just a little: ‘I am aware’-type disclaimer. Please ignore it.

        P.s., Thank you so much to everyone that replied to my last blog entry! I can’t believe that all of you took the time to read my useless ranting! *laughs* Thank you so much! I’m sorry that I haven’t responded to any of you, but I’m a bit stuck on the etiquette of doing so. Or do people not reply to comments? My apologies for the silly questions. X3