up against the wall on a tuesday morning

i knew there would be days like this. when nothing went well, when things got worse by the hour, and the worst was yet to come. when there was no more procrastination, putting things off with just one more day, and i had to hand myself over to the bloody hungarian bureaucracy. when i would be humiliated and mortified, broken to pieces, and felt like the stinkiest piece of shit. when it hit me again that attending university, taking courses for another four years was the most pointless thing i could ever have done.

was i actually worth more by that bloody certificate? did i deserve better by it? did i earn anything with it? most certainly not. then what did i get out of it, apart from those few hundred books, second hand paperbacks with cracked spines and dog-ears? i was only more aware of my worthlessness. it did not make me more valuable, only more aware the lack thereof. it only put the ideas in my head, but never the strength to execute them. it felt like just an enormous waste of time, and a humongous waste of money. it made me boastful, opinionated and stuck-up, planted the feeling of superiority in me. the sense of being too high minded, too sharp, too clever, too wise, too educated for certain small-minded, inferior things. being better among the good, and differentiating among the identical. planted the idea of intellectualism and dreaming big, going far, but it never gave me the force to take the extra mile. never presented the chances i would have been too dull to take anyway.

i knew there would be days like this, when everything went wrong. when i felt like crap. when the humiliation and the injustice that was inflicted on me awoke the deepest anger, the starkest wrath, the most intense rage, the furiest of all furies in me. when i felt like smoking an entire pack of cigarettes, but didn't even manage to go through one, cause i hated the taste of it, and it made me feel nauseous. when i felt like shouting and screaming, crushing things and hitting the wall with clenched fist, hoping for broken bones and physical pain, but only tears were bubbling from the corner of my eye and fury was shaking my shoulders.

i knew there would be days like this. when my stomach turned into one giant rock, my chest was cracking under the weight, soul breaking into a million little pieces. when i would take tranquilizers three times a day to make the rock less massive and the sharp, broken pieces less painful. so is it how my days gonna be the rest of my life? ricocheting between an anxiety-ridden, distressed mind and a somewhat senseless and dead-pan state, numbed by tranquilizers?

i knew there would be days like this, going under water, not getting any air, chocking, suffocating, crushing under the distress and the pressure. but i really hoped these days would never come.