My mind keeps telling me that I won't make it.

and I keep believing it.

(insert "run away if you don't want to read about my boring self esteem issues" scream here)

I'm a competitive person, naturally. I mean, even if I say so otherwise I pit myself against every threat that I see. Most of the time though, the threat is academic.

And before I proceed, let me tell you this. I like getting good grades. It's the only thing that I have and can do without killing myself for it. A B grade is like a FAIL to me. A C? Unthinkable. If it's not an A or an A+; I'm doing something wrong and I try again.

However, together with my somewhat unconscious need for approval, I'm also the most terrible procrastinator and lazy bum that you'll ever meet. True story.

I'm the girl who gives in her essays two days after they're due (both my sociology theory essays actually), hands in a couple of pages full of poorly researched bull crap to pass off as an anthropology assignment and not do something that she absolutely despises - like write an eight hundred word essay for a generic course that she doesn't see the point in doing.

I'm that girl.

But that doesn't take away the fact that I don't like good grades.

Can you see now? I want the prize but I'm not willing to put in the hard work for it.

This semester has been particularly difficult for me. I've found it tougher to cope and understand and pull my head out of my pants long enough to understand the stuff the lecturers are saying.

I will not bore you with the sad excuses that I'm offering as a buffer to my incompetence.

But the thing is, so has everyone else. And yet they're coping just fine. They're getting great grades, and they're studying and coping and just.

They're doing okay, you know?

But I'm not. At least, I don't feel like I am.

I don't think I'll make it this semester, I really don't.

Blech. This blog has made no sense. I thought writing about how I felt like would help me feel better. It doesn't. It just makes me feel worse, actually.