Fighting no one, killing nothing

There's this thing in my chest, a metaphorical thing, like a hiccup or a bump. But it's there, it's big and at times it makes it hard to breathe. I think I fucked my psychology class. Do you even know what that means?

Ridiculously, it means I suck at psychology, something that should be so easy for me is actually the worse thing in my list of brilliance. I should've passed this class no problem, but here I am, fucking up test and turning in late paper with poorly chosen topics. Ugh.

Realistically, I should have managed my time better so I could spend more time studying those similar but oh so different theories, learning how to conduct experiments better and written my paper ahead of time. It was extremely easy, but I slacked off. And the only reason I feel so bad now is because I don't want my father to tell me I'm a fuck up. (or fucking up like i did in high school).

So, what can I do?
I can still write my paper. (Even though, the teacher is not too pleased with me not having any of the materials to write said paper, and I had to ask her to email me the outline for the essay, which shows how much I've been ditching class which is not going to earn points on my essay. As much as you'd like to think it's about your work, it doesn't hurt if the teacher is fond of you, now does it?) I'm picking something with the Internet and Social Networking, which should be interesting. I'm leaning toward the negative though, cuz I is biaz lik dat.
There's one more test and I know what it's on. So I can study now and ace it when it's time.
I can stop kicking myself repeatedly for this. I know what I did wrong, and it is not incredibad like high school. I'm taking like five other psychology courses before I leave De Anza, General Psych is one stone I slipped on. (Though it is like....the basics...).

My father? Who the muffin knows. But at least he doesn't tell me I'm going to fail at life and become a hooker like my mother told me...all. the. fucking. time.

In the end, what you think of yourself is what matters, and you doing whatever it takes to find a safe place in your mind is the most important. If you've got to run, run fucking fast.

Who knows what's underground

Are you what I need? Or just what I want? Someone who treads lightly between the superficial and depths or someone who flies to close to the sun? Can you show me a world I've never seen or reflect back what I've been and what I've done? Can I find security in your arms or did I just make you up? Are we here, together for the different things or are we in love? Did you fall from the heavens, a demon borne of hell,or are you just like me searching around?

I think you're lovely, no matter what you are. And if you change, my love will change with you. If you become something dark, I'll show you your light. If you become superficial, I'll show you how to grow. I'll leave when you tell me, I'll stay when you need me. I'll sleep by your side so the nightmares don't steal you. I'll try not to hurt you, directly or not and kiss your bruises better whenever you hurt.

And while I love you, we haven't met. I scared you off. Yet again.