How is it?

That I can fall asleep at the mere mention of "Convisor Mini Review" and yet, when I read a novel, even Kafka's "Amerika" I can be alert and persistent for hours. (I'm not saying anything bad about Kafka, I do love him dearly, however I assumed it would put me to sleep in a pleasant manner though dense manner. That's why I love him, just beautiful.) Seriously, I would look for some prescription uppers, may have to soon, caffine isn't working so well anymore.

Had a bit of a breakdown today. I'm really tired of this shit and my stamina is wearing thin. I snapped in a very crazy lady manner because S had one friend over. I don't care that people have fun when I have to work, I'm used to it from law school.

It's kinda like when I was young, and I had to clean the entire house. Nothing, absolutely nothing irritated me more than my little brother sitting in the same room and either playing video games or even just doing nothing. I didn't snap because I didn't want him to be happy, I just can't stand the happiness of others when I am so miserable. I would rather just not be in the same space. Is that terrible? I am not sure, but I really cannot help it.

I was genuinely happy for the friend's last day of class, yet I was so angry about what I had to do, and getting so little done that I just had to distance myself. And then I'm even more angry because the easiest, most logical solution would be for me to really stay at the library for 11 hours a day, but that truly seems cruel and unusual punishment. I like being at home. I just get less done and feel hella shitty about it. So, I read a novel today. Oh well. I'll figure this out, likely just as it is about to be over. I'm postive again, but frustrated, mostly at myself taking this out on others. I'm not attentive to my friend's needs anymore. I promise people, there will be a day when I have a job just like everyone else and I can enjoy my time.