Acceptance

Journal

So apparently they determined that I wasn’t in the top nine percent.

Wasn’t an outright rejection, but my chances are slim.

Part of me just wants to take my GED, get out of high school, and pursue travelling instead of college. Get a minimum wage job in a place I want to live, and stop giving fucks about my education.

I have cared my entire educational career, I have passionately dove into academia, all with the intent to go to a nice university. But I am not good enough for them.

Honestly, I am not good enough for anyone. So why care about them? Why give them the time of day and not invest my energy into making my life happier and those around me happier?

Simple things make me content – my plants, a cup of coffee in the morning, cats. I don’t need to get a degree from an expensive, fancy university to make me happy.

Sure, I would love to surround myself with intelligent people and new concepts, I would love to have the opportunity to further my own mind – but it won’t make or break my happiness.

Fuck it, I’m not going to take AP tests. I’m not going to stress myself over acceptance letters – as much as it might hurt to not be accepted.

Perhaps I didn’t put the effort in that I should have. Maybe I’m not as intelligent as my peers.

I need to recognize that this is not as definitive as I may have thought before.

Advertisements

Short Story

Journal

She sat under the tree; They had shared their first kiss here. Milky, porcelain magnolia blossoms in full bloom. Crisp ebony park bench positioned just barely under the soothing shade of the tree.

It was the same place she would bring her dog during the summer before they had met, read with her there in order to get out of the cynically apathetic house where she lived.

It was an exuberant park bench, under an exuberant tree, in a lackadaisical city.

She sat here alone this time, and had come here plenty of times before alone, however this time was something special because she finally felt content.

With her book, dark chocolate, and cup of black coffee – she needed nothing more in this moment.

Tangibly Insane

Journal

I have a few issues right now, feeling inadequate (which has been a recent motif in my life), like I am not quite right, and like everyone else can seem to see it. It mingles with feeling like I try too hard and who I am is wrong. Like I have something in common with the people who walk around looking like furries or that one kid who is just not right in the head, the divergent, awkward, and plain weird.

The kind of weird that makes you wonder what happened to them as a kid.

Maybe it’s because I know something happened to me as a kid and I can’t take it back or change it or even make it something I’m proud of. I have been hurt, and I don’t want anybody to see it. I have been scarred and raped and verbally abused to the point that I cannot have normal relationships. I have put myself out there to any and everybody that I have liked and I have been rejected all but a few times.

This last  week some guy told me I was a waste of time, another guy, who I actually like, stood me up for the third time. And the one guy who actually gives a fuck about me I gave up. And I’m not saying I regret that, which is so weird, because I’m lonely and I’m sad and I don’t want to be either of those things. I want someone to kiss me on the forehead and tell me they love. and I want someone to take me to dinner and tell me they think I look beautiful. I want some to see me reading and hug me and tell me how intelligent I am. I want to live with someone, share moments with someone, and yet I can’t even harbor normal relationships because of all my goddamn issues.

It’s exhausting having all this go through my head during the day. So many mornings when my alarm goes off I just think about staying in bed for the rest of my life. Not eating, Not drinking, not going out or seeing anybody, just laying like that in the same position I woke up in, and giving up.

Depression feels like futility. True futility. And nobody else seems to see it or care that it is there.

Love is futile, life is futile. School, work, and family are all futile. One of the only things that’s not is finding happiness in the world around you. Finding happiness in the bizarre and the natural and the things that are tangibly insane. Growing plants, the universe, watching a fish swim, the joy of a good nights sleep.

People are never going to see you the way you see yourself, life is never going to be as rewarding as they made it out to be, school will just get worse, work… is well, work. and family will let you down the hardest because you won’t expect your family to.

Stood up, Again.

Journal

“Goddamnit. and just watch Leo is going to stand me up tonight. I really shouldn’t expect him to come. he’s done this to me twice? three times already? why the hell would he actually ride his bike across town to see me? he’s not going to.” -My Journal approximately five hours ago

I guess I expected him to show up in the same way that I expected my father to show up for me. It was the same anticipation that I felt when I look into the crowd after I was done playing in a recital and the same crushing feeling when their face isn’t in the audience.

I wanted him to be here, I wanted my father to show up for me, and yet I’ve learned that people will never show up – at least not when you actually want them to.