Wishing on dandelions and stars and eyelashes seems to lead to heartbreak. We wish for things we know won't come true and are sad when they don't. We can even wish for simply happiness and when sadness lingers, we still feel like the fucking flowers are ineffective.
Having an overall emotional breakdown/identity crisis is not ideal during your senior year of college. I despise the majority of my classes and restrain myself daily from screaming, "Fuck you," at my various professors. I am sick of interpreting poor literature and trying to pretend it's fucking brilliant.
No, wrong wrong wrong. Just sit there in your wrongness and accept that the work sucks.
I'm mainly referring to my playwriting class. We are expected to read various plays, have thoughtful responses, and write numerous plays as well. Any writing class I've ever been in has a couple projects with minimal guidelines you are expected to finish over the course of the semester. In Playwriting? Oh no, of course not.
We are expected to churn out a new, brilliant, original play every single fucking week. How in God's name am I supposed to do such a thing, a new ten page play every week??? On top of this, there are other assignments. None of which, I may add, have aided in my writing skills.
So to keep up with the course work (of mother fucking PLAYWRITING ONE) I'm turning in work of which I am not proud. This kills my creative soul. And the next week, I get another set of stupid guidelines, and have to do it all over again. It's debilitating. It's a three hour class once a week and I hate it beyond everything.
My other classes are okay, but none of them inspire me in the slightest. On top of my already bad mood this semester, this is just the icing on top of the fucking cake. I have my Banned from the Bible class in two hours, the only one I actually like, and I'll have to skip it to write another goddamn play for my class later tonight. I hate everything right about now.
I'm having a hard time this semester, stemming from the fact I don't want to graduate and am terrified of the future. Coping with a broken heart and the accompanying loneliness doesn't help much either. I come home, go to work, see friends occationally, and turn in work I hate about writing I hate for classes I hate. Overall, it's been a trying half of the semester.
So all the dying dandelions I see on the side of the road, I am still wishing upon. Instead of heartfelt but futile wishes though, I'm wishing for stability. I'm wishing to make it through this semester. I'm wishing to find a purpose amidst all this frustration, anger, and loneliness. I'm wishing it's a couple weeks from now so I can go home and hold the little twins in my arms. I'm wishing for something to make me hate this semester less.
And as the dandelion seeds blow through the slightly-crisp fall air, I have hope. I haven't made it this far without that, no? Dealing with the upcoming 4 1/2 year mark for my mom is more fuel to the fire. Again though I've gotten through everything with a hopeful attitude, and I can't lose that now.
Alright, time to write this mother fucking play...and figure out how I can express my general hatred of this horrible class.