An Overview in photos

Mes pensées

Les temps passe si vite! C'est mon dernier jour de clinical. J'ai un patient trés malade, et c'est beacoup de travaille. Je sais que je vais être un infermier, mais.. Pêut-être c'est ne pas le temps. J'ai pensée du suject pour trois mois. En fin, j'ai décidé que je quitte. En fin, je vais aller á Norvége poue une anée. Pour moi, il n'ya pas un autre chois. Je sais ça. Á ça pointe, je peux sourir. Mea convictions ne sont pas claires, mais c'est le temps. Alors, aurevoir, l'école d'infermiers. Je vais rétourner aprés ce anée.

You're an appirition, some freak, I suppose.

I feel as though I've fallen into an abyss. My progress in school is crumbling before my eyes, and it feels as though I can in no way stop it. My best friends hate each other, and if I wasn't afraid to express myself, I would tell them to stop being so abrasive to each other. It's going to hurt them later. I had been doing so well with my mood until last week. I know laying in my bed, crying, would in no way solve my problems, nor ease my pain. It was the only response I could muster that wouldn't threaten life or friendships. So I've been crying again, crying as though I've lost all hope of vitality. I tell myself it's going to improve. I'll push through. It's the same thing I've told myself for several years now. I suppose it has worked, in one aspect. I am still here.
Until I can cling to some new hope, I have no choice but to slap a smile on my face and pretend for the sake of everyone else.
I was watching everyone today. Most of the students around go to Syracuse uni. They're rich, arrogant, and act as though I'm invisible. The day I can get an SU boy to smile at me, or even notice me, I'll feel as though I'm not a transparent appirition.
I don't know where I'm going with these musings. The weather is drab, dingy, cold. It's been raining for five days. I don't savor my walks in the gray chill. My winter coat is too big on me, and the sleeves are still too short. Where am I going with these thoughts?
Three points until I'm passing. I suppose there is no option but to study.

Asthma

She was lying in an enclosed, dark place. The air was still and cold, and in the dim light, she could see her breaths in pained rasps of steam. It was hard to draw in air, and far more difficult to release it. She couldn't move more than an inch, nor could she see her surroundings. Despite these things, she knew it was safe. She would live if only by the utmost effort.
She tried to relax herself. This brought to her a slightly comical effect. Can you still a storm when it has reached it's full force? Rarely. She was no special case.
The silence stretched on. It was only broken by her quickly diminishing breath sounds. It came slowly, the thought that she was going to die. She would vanish from this dark place.
The girl groped in the dim around her. She felt the wood paneling and the door handle of the closet, but it would not open. There was no strip of light underneath the door. Her fingers came away with a coat of dust on their tips. How long had she been here? Months? Years?
A feeble cough reached her lips. She put her hand to her throat and tried to draw breath. It would not come. It felt like drowning. She knew she would die.