So much to do, so little done.
I feel like shit, and I think I I really only have the guts to tell this computer that I feel like this right now. I’m a coward with my feelings because I want to keep feigning being strong-willed and impervious to what people have always thought I was unaffected by—loneliness, sadness, struggle and internal pain. I don’t know how I managed to present myself like this and maintain the façade for all four years of high school, but now it’s taking such a toll. A toll on my spirit and my enthusiasm to keep going because the façade is cracked and the pieces are falling.
I don’t understand myself, largely, because I can’t decide what I want. Perhaps It might be some form of anxiety that I need to have assessed, but all that I know about myself is that I cannot stop feeling so disappointed in what I do everything that goes wrong in my eyes. There is the idea for me that I strive to emulate but every time that I fail in some aspect, it chips away at my courage to try again because I keep failing. There are no best aspects. I only see things in a light that I can never achieve and that is what is systematically diminishing my flame.
What am I trying to prove to myself as I continue going this lonely path?
I think about that every day and wonder why I refuse to pick up calls from my mother and my family, shy away at chances to make new friends, sulk even more in the fact that my grades are dropping but am too afraid to seek help. I keep demanding myself what am I trying to prove. It’s eternally frustrating and I’m sure that it also sounds frustrating for anyone reading this.
What are my problems—so shallow and inconsiderate and selfish when pitted against the actual serious problems many around the world face day-in and day-out. Why do I have the authority to complain and feel sad when I have become “privileged” to come to such a prestigious university where no one expects such a struggle nor wishes to hear about it? Assimilate or get brushed off the table by those who assimilate better and faster than you. Therefore, you cannot complain or feel sad, because you cannot say that the chance was not also theirs for the taking.
And in this regard, I continue to dwell in everything: reality, the past, the what-ifs and what-could-have-beens. They race through my mind and I cannot brush them off so easily. We struggle in silence, if there is even a we. And the rest don’t seem to give a damn. They don’t need to. They certainly don’t want to.