robosagogo

I guess, logically, most people don't irrevocably screw up their lives until they're at least old enough to drink. There're exceptions, of course. But I chose not to replace my hands with egg beater prosthetics and I'd like to think that anything below that wouldn't quite qualify as the sort of thing that'd define my life from here to the unknown.

Bottom line = I've fucked up my college career pretty bad.My GPA is sub 2.0, according to a letter from my advisor. If it's not because I've got some mental health issues (minor, I'd hope), then I'm just so incredibly inadequate. Hopefully you don't think I earned this through a learning disability.called "Being Really Fucking Stupid", but you don't know me that well so you could really believe anything about me.

Right now, I'm just very worried about myself and my future. I've been trying, since Friday, to write a letter to the school pseudo-therapist to tell her my situation and that my uninformed opinion tells me that I should be on some sort of something. And that I need some guidance, I guess, about what to do. I'm not looking forward to telling my parents who I, admittedly, don't give much credit to.

But I can't say that I can think of any instances where they exceeded my rather dismal expectations, either. But I suppose they love me, and I suppose they wouldn't change their minds over something like this. They're just not, in my estimation, the most understanding or rational people when it comes to grades and... stuff.

Anyway, Happy Valentine's Day. Because love is less esoteric than Thanksgiving.

Edit: Yes, too many commas. I wish I wasn't too tired to fix it.