I don't believe in love. I guess it's main because ever since I was little, all I've seen are fragile relationships. I've never witnessed or felt love, but I've seen more than enough betrayals and misunderstandings. I don't believe in people. Everybody lies. Everybody's vulnerable. And guess what? Everybody uses hurting others as a defense mechanism. It makes me sick.
I'm such a hypocrite.
Yet, even though I know that everything is a lie, I still believe every word. I trust people. I trust their words, and I trust their smiles. Yet I can tell that nobody trusts me. I guess that suits me just fine. If I'm always the one left behind, if nobody needs me, then I'll just wait until somebody needs me again. That way, I can give to others what nobody has ever given me.
Lately, I've been thinking.
(Because until the recent days in my life, I have been drifting through life with a giant DUUUUUUURRRRR echoing through my mind.)
Life kinda sucks.
I've hit an enormous writer's block, and all five of my stories are puddles of nonsense. (Sigh.)
Lately, luck has not been a lady to me. That bitch. In journalism, two of the articles I wanted were assigned, and I lost a beat. Of course, they are all separate incidents that are logically justifiable in a manner that does not relate to me personally, but damn it, I'm pissed.
I also missed two internship deadlines, (one by almost two months). I REAALLY wanted the SEP internship too. since money is very tight, and I've been looking for various fields of experience since very long ago. Yet, for some reason my favorite Science teacher did not even consider recommending me. It was honestly a pure GOLDEN opportunity, and poof. Gone.
Now what am I going to do for the summer? UGH.
The world is expecting way too much from me. Or, maybe I'm just not expecting enough from myself. It feels as if every good thing I do is accompanied by failure.
Good: I have three AP classes and two honors.
Fucked:
- I have a C in Spanish. The. First. C. I. Have. Ever. Gotten. And it's in my Junior year, of all years. Can I say, fuck?
- I'm always behind on English readings, despite the fact that if I had the privilege to do so, I would have the entire book finished in one sitting.
- I failed all my finals. Literally FAILED. And the worst part is, I don't even know HOW. When I saw the grades, the only thing on my mind was: "HOW?!"
- My two fluff classes are dragging my GPA down, by providing a bigger divisor. And even my stress-reliever Choir class has become boring, monotonous, and filled with obnoxious sophomores who don't know when to shut the hell up.
Great: I wake up at 7AM every Saturday to volunteer, and spend breaks standing outside of Macy's and collecting donations
Bad: I still don't have enough volunteer hours!!!
Good: I wake up even earlier on weekends to attend
Bad: I'm never properly prepared. (Don't shoot me Nancy.)
Good: I'm on the newspaper -- which consumes shitloads of time.
Bad: I never have enough articles, and I never get the stories that I want, and the year is almost gone.
Good: I'm always providing relationship counseling for my friends -- even those who could give less than a horse's ass about my feelings.
Bad: I don't have a beau.
Good: My first ever SAT score is 2210.
Bad: IT'S NOT GOOD ENOUGH.
HORRIBLE: I am addicted to the computer. Once I sit down, the hours just fly by. And thus, I have even LESS time to do what I want to.
It seems that no matter what, I'm just not good enough.
If I think that I'm intelligent, there's always someone who's smarter.
If I dare feel that I am beautiful, my eyes show me countless women more splended than I.
If I gaze into the mirror and find my smile beautiful, the world offers me a thousand smiles more brilliant.
If I feel lucky, there are those who are luckier.
If I think my legs are long and gorgeous, there are women whose legs scream sex.
If, for the smallest moment, I want to appreciate my life, I suddenly remember that I can do better. So much better.
Vanity. Greed. Hunger. Desire. Those are the emotions ingrained so deeply within me that they've clouded my vision. Sometimes I think the world looks a little different. The sky a bit more blue than it was yesterday, the birdsongs a bit sharper in pitch. Yet those bursts of brilliance only bring me pain. For I know that I will never fly as freely as a bird, never shine as bright as a star, never rise as tall as a building, and never, ever, touch the sky. But I want to. I want to so badly that it keeps me up at night.
Yet how can I? How can I touch the sky when I don't even know where I stand on Earth?
My mother is a vain woman, perhaps more than I. And there never goes a week when she does not comment on my posture, my skin, or my ever-so-flat nose.
The school is a factory, claiming to cultivate young minds. When in actuality, the stress and demands are so overbearing that I cannot even find time to breathe.
And who do I want to become? I don't know.
A journalist? They don't make nearly as much money as I'd like.
A doctor? It seems that all the other aspiring doctors around me have gotten a head start with internships and lab work, and I'm left in the dust.
A psychologist? How many brilliant young minds carry their Psychology degrees with them and end up rotting away as high school counselors or Special Education teachers?
A musician? Yet I've given up music for the sake of more college-appealing classes.
A dancer? Ha, that's an absurd dream with only one year's worth of experience.
An artist? There are six-year-olds with more training than I do.
There's so much more that I don't have.
I've never been in love. I've never had more than fifty dollars in my possession. I've never worn jewelry worth more than a hundred dollars. I've never lived in a room wider than California street. I've never slept in a bed with a canopy. In fact, I've never slept in a full-sized bed before. I've never owned a pet that lives more than a month. I've never been to a fancy restaurant. I've never had a sibling. I've never had someone who I know will be there for me no matter what. I've never been in the same room as my mother and my father at the same time (at least, not that I can remember). I've never been to a live concert. I have never felt that safe-tingly feeling described in novels while wrapped in the body heat of another. Yet I've always been stuck in the middle of everyone's problems. Mending broken hearts, comforting broken spirits. But what about me? Never, in all soon-to-be seventeen years of my life, has anyone bothered to fix me.
I know I should be happy with what I have, and I can make a list of those too. But I can't. There's too much I've never had, and the desire is so intense that it's overwhelming. I'm not satisfied, and it's killing me. Are those things too much to ask for? They seem simple enough. I mean, there are countless people in the world who possess those things and MORE. Yet why don't I? When I want this much. When I need this much. Why can't I?
I don't know I don't know I don't know I don't know.
I'm interested in everything, yet I want to do nothing. There's not enough time. There's not enough drive. I want to reach out and change my own life, but my hand always slips in the darkness. There are too many factors to consider. Money. Reputation. Stability. Demand. Opportunities. Choosing a profession is no longer "do what makes you happy," but rather what makes your parents happy and makes sure you and your offspring will not suffer and die for the sake of your creativity. The future offers nothing but more burdens. More demands. More expectations. MORE STRESS.
I can't enjoy school, I can't take it one step at a time. Not when I have to take the SATs in my Junior year. Not when I have to choose my major before I even turn old enough to drink. Not when everyone around me are rising higher and higher, while I'm left behind.
I want to be more than this. I KNOW I am more than this. But how? How will I ever reach the future?
You see, I'm one of those people who live for perfection.
If I don't know anything else in this world, I know one fact: I want to be successful.
I'm sick and tired of poverty. I know I'm not like, living on the streets poor or even food stamps poor. But I'm not wealthy, and it hurts. In this Capitalistic society, lower class citizens such as myself are always trapped in lifestyles that "could be worse" but are simply not good enough.
I don't want to think twice, thrice, or four times about purchasing a three dollar piece of jewelry.
I don't want to feel like shit after spending twenty bucks on a new shirt.
I don't want to pass by articles of clothing or stuffed animals that I want simply because I'm not in dire need of them.
I WANT TO HAVE WHAT I WANT.
And that, is my goal in life. If I have nothing else, I just want that one moment of pure satisfaction. One single moment when I am completely, utterly, and perfectly convinced that everything is okay. That there is nothing missing, nothing broken, and nothing wrong/ That I'm perfect the way I am. That I am beautiful, intelligent, satisfied, wanted, needed, loved. Happy.
I want to feel lucky to be alive.
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