Wednesday, December 09, 2009

A First Time for Quitting.

Well, Friends and Family.
I'm sitting on the fourth floor of my favorite building.
I'm the only girl here.
Well, unless Emby is a girl.


That is not what I signed on to blog about.
I signed on to tell you a secret.
Once, when I was in junior high, my friend called me a Quitter.
I don't remember exactly what it was about, but I think it was about basketball.
Or maybe about boys.
Since I was thirteen, I believed her for a long time.


A couple of years later, I realized that I'm not much of a quitter.
I'm actually more of an over achiever and I actually fret a lot about when to let things go.
School. Jobs. Projects. Ambitions. Even People.


Today I quit something.
I quit French.
Alright, fine, I quit French in October.
Already behind, I was usually too sick to go to class.
I missed so much that now... I'm failing.
There's no way out of it.

I just emailed my teacher and told her I would not be there for the final next week.

Rebellious, I know.


Let's be honest.
I'm not going to make up all my homework by tomorrow.
I have a D average on my tests and I will fail the final since I've forgotten everything.
Nor do I really care since I gave up the class a long time ago.
In fact, I already cried.
In front of people.

So today, I am a Quitter.
And it actually feels kinda good.
Don't worry, this won't become a common trait.