pro·ba·tion/prōˈbāSHən/Noun
1. The release of an offender from detention, subject to a period of good behavior under supervision.
Lately, I've given myself plenty of detention.
I'm not sure when that started, or why, or how, or the etc., but I'm pretty sure you could say that's true. My diaries have been lacking entries, my iPod's been dead, and I can't remember the last time I got a legit good night of sleep. Lots of crappy mishaps and emotions like to poke me, and I had to deal with them with the "virus treatment". The "virus treatment", as I call it, is that point at which your emotional, physical, mental, and psychological states begin to merge and the lines between "bad mood", "sick", and "distracted" decide to dissolve into a huge hunk of bitter coffee grounds, tree sap, and dirty thorns; so you collapse inwardly and just stay alive for a few days/weeks until you actually feel better. Its name comes from the similar way that your body reacts to a virus. It goes to the problem, then puts all of its effort into it, creating a bloody battlefield of runny noses and fevers.
The recovery usually lasts only a week or so, depending on the length and severity of the "virus treatment". It usually consists of getting back on a normal schedule, catching up on the things you missed, and ignoring that which would normally get on your nerves in order to prevent another treatment. This stage is probation. You don't let things get in your way again. It'll only create more chaos we can't afford.
So now I'm doing the homework, charging the iPod, and... Planning to clean the room. Well, it's getting better, anyway.
This has been just another one of my foolish philosophies that may or may not be a completely ridiculous assumption that I've made off of a simple common life experience. Do not put trust in it, for I can't even do the same.
"It's darkest just before the dawn"
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