My worst entry yet [20201201]

 [My worst entry yet]

This message comes from a place of desolation. 

I, for the last few days, have been in a warped space and time. Things happen every day, but I have a hard time asserting their meaning. Work seems endless, and I often wonder why I do it in the first place. We are supposed to be ambitious, to endlessly work to achieve something. But if I have nothing to achieve, then how am I supposed to work? 

Last year what drove me was fear. I feared I would be worthless if I failed. After all, I had awaited for years to get where I was then. But now, fearless, I wonder if this is really where I want to be. Is this who I want to be? Forever confined to a certain limited array of jobs. In truth, I wish I could do what I love sporadically and live securely with the little I could have. 

In truth, I am being dramatic because I'm in no good position. My legs ache, they crave exercise. My brain is tired of procrastinating and doing at the same time. Sometimes you notice colleagues of yours doing the most and successfully achieving whatever they want to achieve. They have themselves figured out. They know what they want. But I don't. I don't know whether I am studying for interest or job material. Or both. Or neither. 

I'm just aiming at an apple on top of someone's head. But I never learned how to aim or use a bow and arrow in the first place! Or a gun! Maybe if I throw a stone... but I don't think it will go far enough to hit the apple. 

My teacher once told me writing shit can be healthy. I don't think I write well; and all I ever write is shit, really. I don't like to take myself seriously and frankly, I despise the idea of sitting down for more than a few hours to write words. Even when sketching I never had the patience. I like doing other things, however. 

For example, I've been thinking of taking a painting course... I never learned how to paint, and I think it'll be productive to learn. I would also love to work in small yet comforting jobs like a bakery, a peaceful bar, or a cafe. Just imagine the people you would meet daily! Plus you would have to work as a team, right? 

I have no experience in any of those jobs, yet I wish I could do something...different. Ever since I was 6 I've been studying. Learning things and writing them down. Thinking and rethinking. Nothing more. I just want to do something different... something dynamic. 

But those types of things... they're very hit or miss aren't they? What are the chances of living a stable life working those types of jobs and mediocrely painting now and then? I just don't think I'm made to work in closed rooms with the same people every day for the rest of my life. Every time I imagine a stable, non-moving lifestyle...Forever... Until I die... That's already death, isn't it? To just repeat what you have done the year prior. 

God, what am I saying? This year has been a rollercoaster, right? Tell you what, I've tried to be perfect when I was younger. I am still young, but I have realized that the Expectations I have for myself are too ambitious. I will content with just living now. Just aiming, although poorly, at the apple. 

We are told to always dream. That we can do it if only we believe in it. But the truth is harsh, and truth says it has more to do with luck than virtuousness and ambitiouness. 

With this ramble finished, I write here my imperfections: 

I cannot read well like others. If I don't enjoy the book, I cannot do it. I need time and academia doesn't give me enough! I also cannot write professionally. There are so many greater writers who are from the same age-group as me; and I truly feel I will never be as good as them.  I have other skills -- skills they don't have. But those aren't useful to the area of study, so I need not bring them to this text. Even with my other skills, I could always be better. I could always excel, but I have never been one to perfect my craft. 

At this point, I have no clue what exactly is my message. I guess I am just confused. 

I just want Christmas to come, and to worry about lesser things like my personal toy collection and journaling. Those are fun activities and they relax me. I just need a break that's it. I just want to have a couple of weeks to breathe and let go of worries. Not one day passes where I don't think about an essay I have to write or a topic I have to search for. Where I live academia isn't as demanding as others, but I would say it still is too much to hold on to for too long. The semesters are lengthy and towards the end, everyone just wants to go home and relax for a couple of days; to forget the stress. 

Oh well, it seems I have nothing else to write about. I do think my teacher was right. I wrote shit but now I am quite satisfied and content. I think I can go exercise now. Pump it up and gain energy. I hate sitting down for long periods of time. 

Goodbye.