math, the summer devil

i had something i was going to say, not really important, but maybe humorous, and now i can't think of it. all i can think of is how much i hate summer. i hate the way it makes me doubt myself. it's like without some type of constant feedback saying "you don't suck" i am unable to create the feedback myself. all i can think about is how i'm ugly, and fat and how there is no way i will be able to survive next semester, how i'm retarded for continuing russian because there's no way i can remeber all these fucking verbs, nevertheless how to conjugate them, and then there's the adjectives and nouns and pronouns and have i begun to mention the whole fucking case system?!? how i'll never be able to write those papers for my philosophy class, no matter how short they are or how well i know what i'm talking about. how i'm stupid for thinking i can have a second major in philosphy and religion, i've never even had a philosophy class before. what the fuck was i thinking? how will i force myself to get out of bed for 7:30 jogging? and why did i set my schedule so i have five hours of class on t/r? but what scares me most, the fear that comes back, every summer without fail, is how can i call myself a mathematics major? I honestly think that i am not any good at math. I have this fear that I won't be able to do the work. Even after I've gotten an A in my math class in the spring semester, the feeling gets to me, a feeling of complete inadequacy that nags at me until i don't know how to cope. at these times, i just know that even if i make it through college, i will never be able to call myself a mathematician, i will never be good enough.