exhaustion puts me in the feels

sometimes, there is a tug of war inside my mind, fighting between the rational side of me and the emotional side. and as i prepare to go into my 3rd consecutive 12-hour day, most of which i am completing for no income, i am struggling to rationally think about getting through the day. i am angry. angry that a woman with no expertise came into my classroom and acted as though she knew what she was talking about. angry she assumed, either because of my age or my gender, that i didn't know what i was doing. angry that i don't have a therapist. angry that there was not a course available for my elective, for my last semester, and that i am stuck in a class where i am reading about things i already know. i feel i've been gestating this degree, and now the labor is lasting 4 months, with my weekends as the epidural that only dulls the pain when that "time off" is untainted by other obligations. i am angry i am expected to balance anything, when nothing about my life has time for balance, or cooking, or exercise, or art unless i sacrifice sleep and allow myself to slide closer to the breakdown i make efforts to avoid reaching. angry i am available to so many people and yet don't feel supported. angry that i need that support. angry that i don't give a fuck about my body. that i do worry about my appearance because of the implicit judgments people make, but angry there is pressure to conform to society's idea of what is worthy of admiration, love, sex, and respect. angry that we have to work our lives away, and feel guilty for the times we devote to our families because it isn't capitalistic. angry i don't have more time with my friends and family. angry people assume that just because i don't have kids i have all the time in the world to get things done, and angry women who choose not to have children aren't offered the same congratulations as so many women who accidentally become mothers (since so many claim they had no choice). angry by the time i get to the weekend all i want to do is rest, and i don't have enough friends with whom i feel comfortable exploring my suicidal thoughts. angry i don't make more time to write! angry when people ask me about whether i'm singing, they frame it as it being a shame to let my talent go to waste. as though my talent exists or appeals to enough people for it to be their gift rather than mine. angry i don't sing more often on my own, so that my voice maintains its strength and range. angry that i live around so much ignorance, and have spent most of my life feeling like so few people get it (i guess there's some loneliness mixed in there too). angry at my country and its politics. angry at the compassion directed according to political boundaries, as imposed and artificial as the borders between countries, between faiths, between ethnicities. angry i work so fucking hard, have been working over half my life and have nothing to show for it besides a formal education that only i can appreciate. angry i can't pay my bills on time, let alone save money, and therefore will have to work until i am physically or mentally incapable, leaving no time to enjoy my life aside from the few hours i get during a dqy or 2 off. angry i am spent and it doesn't matter, because the world keeps spinning despite my anger, and regardless of how i feel, i still have to get out of this bed and perform the tasks i have committed to without letting on how angry i am. i have to suck it up and push on through, because even while there are some people who recognize the importance of mental health, the patriarchy in general does not, and that is what dominates the outer world and my inner conflict.