Questionability

This whole damn week...its something of a stress stimulator. In more ways then one do I find reason to say, "FUCK THIS!!" and to quit. Academically it is as if my teachers all had some sort of secret collaboration and plotted this whole gruesome day-to-day torture. Reason is had to find in ways to hold up against this barrage of emotions and wave of stress. Y et here I still am, struggling against the tide, trying so desperately to stand, as a testament to an ever-weary adamant will. It is simply half way through this week and yet still so much has occurred. The greatest desire sought to is often the one that is the more elusive. No matter how much shit falls in your face, one must find reason to persevere on in hope for better light. I found my light, I know where it is, the hardest part of it is jumping over all the obstacles obscuring it from me. Since the night before, it seems like I have just lost heart in some aspects. It is as if there is so much more weight and a larger pressure not only pushing down, but constricting. So much heaviness, so hard to see what others can have for themselves and know that you cannot have the same. How much time must go by and I have to sit through all the shit that happens every damn day. There has not been a point in time since, in which there was no cease to such form of unending thoughts. The stream that flows with little regard of actions, of sense, of any damned reaction to feelings. Questionability. Ever-present thoughts overshadowing the consciousness, oh why so do they hurt?