Meltdown

I've been running in overdrive mode for more than a few days now, and the strange feelings of discontent are starting to eat in at the corners of my bluster and self-confidence.

Everytime I think about living in Tampa, I am filled with a quiet unease, as if there was something not quite right just below the surface.

I keep telling myself that it's okay, I'm just imagining it. I keep telling myself it will get better when school starts, when there are more people. The problem is that I don't know if it WILL get better, and it's really fucking with my head.

It didn't help that coming back to home from Tampa was a HUGE fuckup - mostly my fault. I underestimated the time it would take to get packed and ready, instead spending that time fooling around and working. So, I was stuck - I had packed more than half my stuff, but I had a single night left AND I had to pack up, clean up, and move out. It's a wonder more things didn't go wrong, especially with how fucktarded my subletters are. Anyways, as it happens, I was rushing at the last minute. I forgot a keycard - locked it in my car - and I left bleach on some linoleum for too long, yellowing it. Nothing horrible or unfixable, but still.

Now, I get home, and the subletters start calling - where is this, where is that, why didn't you vacuum! My folks, especially my mother, take this opportunity to jump me - oh my god, you never do anything right, you always procrastinate, you'll never make it, blah blah blah.

And then the questions start - earnest "soulsearching" questions. "Are you really happy in Tampa, Jeff?" asks my mother. "I'm fine. Tampa is great, I want to be there." "Are you sure? You don't seem so happy. What's wrong with Tampa?" "Nothing... what's going on? Why are you asking me?" "Well, you just don't seem excited about school... is everything fine?" "Yes. Everything is fine." "Do you really want to be going to school there?" And so on. Over and over and over. On the phone, at home, every opportunity.

It used to just slide off my conviction like oil on ice. Now, more and more, it's like that small voice in the back of my head, whispering to me in moments of weakness or confusion. I know WHY she asks. I know that I AM happy. It's just fucking incessant.

Yet now, just a vague unease... floating on by in my head during the quiet moments.

It's just not quite right.

I feel: -_- Like not fighting anymore.