A month without alcohol

I’ve spent the last week and a bit busting my nut to get this essay in for college. Granted, I got it finished, but its shit and I’ve probably failed so here I am back in the library starting on my next and second last project. Its not fair, the rest of my class are in the Swan getting locked while I’m here, semi-sober, about to get stuck into the next round of needle/eye stabbing pain that is whatever the fuck this module is about. Why? because I need to pass by at least 10 or 15 per cent to compensate for all the other shit I left to the last minute.

I swore at Christmas that I wouldn’t end up in this situation, I was gonna put my head down and blah de blah de blah-all idle talk when action was needed. Sometimes I think I sabbotage myself on purpose, not consciously of course, but subconsciously in that part of your brain that decides why you don’t feel comfortable with your hands flat on your laps and why you can put off studying because ’thats not due for ages’.

Theres definately something going on there. In school I was in the second lowest of 8 english classes for 5 years. English was nearly the only subject I enjoyed(I liked economics because it was politics and maths because it was easy-everything else was a waste of my precious time). Every teacher I had wondered what the feck I was doing there, until they corrected my exams.

Now the only question is whether I sabbotage myself to make things harder (because my priveledged backround makes things too easy for someone who was bred with the trenches in mind) and I need to do it the hard way OR because underneath it all, my own slef-image even, I’m scared that without anything in my way I still won’t be good enough?

I resented my primary school because they were so ’small time’ that they held me back(I was thinking this at the age of 12). I resented my secondary school because when I walked in on the first day we were told that we were ‘the best of the best’-and I had to ask ‘why?’. I hadn’t proven anything to anyone, I still haven’t. And now, on a course that I love, that was made for me, I’ve found a way to risk failing second year.

the words ‘here we go again’ spring to mind. I’m sick of being second best