Life in a Pressure Cooker

Life has certainly been rubbing me the wrong way. Between the paper cut inbetween my thumb and index finger and accidentally drinking orange juice after brushing my teeth this morning, I'm fairly sure that karma has decided to kick my patootie into next week. I'm not even sure what I did. Maybe I accidentally killed a ladybug in the third grade or something.

Life has been really stressful lately, but I guess I deserve it for bringing on so many activities. I'm last chair in area band (shut up. I'm grateful to be in), I'm attempting to get into states for DECA, and my coach is convinced that my sabre fencing is going to get my high school to go to states. There's a hell of a lot of pressure on me. I don't know what to do. I'm terrified of letting anyone down.

It's impossible to be perfect in absolutely everything you do. I'm not stupid; I'm well aware of this fact, but for some inexplicable reason my brain has not fully accepted the concept and is convinced that I will be able to defy the laws of the universe and be magnificent in everything that strikes my fancy. I don't know when my brain is going to get a wake up call, but I assume it's going to be soon, and I can tell that it's not going to be a pretty sight. I wish there were multiple megs so I could fully dedicate all of myself to everything I do and be somewhat perfect. Augustus Waters was so damn right. Life really isn't a wish granting factory.