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I don't know how to start this. This isn't how I thought this week would go. This isn't how I wanted it to go. I'm like a lot of people right now.
I don't know how to start this, but I'll try.
Hi.
It's been awhile, hasn't it? I'm more active over on Tumblr these days, but...I think I needed to come back here. I'm sorry it's been so long.
So this week happened. That election happened. The atmosphere around here, up in the deep-blue parts of deep-blue Massachusetts, I can only describe it as "oppressive". Everything seems muted. The statements from the university are the same ones they send out when someone dies. It's surreal.
I can't really say too much. I keep flitting back and forth between despair and white-hot rage.
I'm already losing things. I knew Wednesday that I'm going to have to quit my PhD after getting the Masters in the spring. No funding, funding uncertainty, and the stark knowledge that I need to be able to afford to drag my parents and brother out here, where it's safer, in case the worst happens. I can't do that while in school.
I don't know what I'm going to do. It's still a gaping wound to know that I woke up one day with options and a future, and when I woke up the next those were gone. Every time I think I might be able to talk about it, put some distance between it, I just end up feeling raw all over again.
It's so cold and painful to know that the people who share blood with you don't actually give a shit about you, and that they're fine with throwing your dreams and future and safety in the trash. I don't know if I'll ever be able to talk to them again. I might have stopped caring.
I'll pick myself up again. I'm going to be too angry, too spiteful to stay down.
I don't know how to start this, but I'll try.
Hi.
It's been awhile, hasn't it? I'm more active over on Tumblr these days, but...I think I needed to come back here. I'm sorry it's been so long.
So this week happened. That election happened. The atmosphere around here, up in the deep-blue parts of deep-blue Massachusetts, I can only describe it as "oppressive". Everything seems muted. The statements from the university are the same ones they send out when someone dies. It's surreal.
I can't really say too much. I keep flitting back and forth between despair and white-hot rage.
I'm already losing things. I knew Wednesday that I'm going to have to quit my PhD after getting the Masters in the spring. No funding, funding uncertainty, and the stark knowledge that I need to be able to afford to drag my parents and brother out here, where it's safer, in case the worst happens. I can't do that while in school.
I don't know what I'm going to do. It's still a gaping wound to know that I woke up one day with options and a future, and when I woke up the next those were gone. Every time I think I might be able to talk about it, put some distance between it, I just end up feeling raw all over again.
It's so cold and painful to know that the people who share blood with you don't actually give a shit about you, and that they're fine with throwing your dreams and future and safety in the trash. I don't know if I'll ever be able to talk to them again. I might have stopped caring.
I'll pick myself up again. I'm going to be too angry, too spiteful to stay down.
