My life.

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WestK's avatar
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My life is falling apart and I don't know where else to put this right now. No one reads this journal. At least I think no one does. I'm not putting this up here to have a pity-party, I just want to get this out somehow and I don't know where else my words can go. Maybe I do want someone to read this.

Maybe I want to wake up tomorrow and have everything figured out for me. I know life doesn't work that way and that you have to fight for it to work out the way you want it to, but I'm so sick of fighting. I'm sick of struggling. I'm sick of gasping for air every second of my life. When does it get easier? When do we really start living?

I sit in my room and I watch everyone else around me grow into incredible people. Not me. I'm too afraid to even put myself out there, knowing that I will never be good enough for the industry I want to break in to. And my friends sit there and lie and tell me I'm great, but have any of them really even seen my work? I can truly say I produce nothing good. And yes, while I may be creative and I can draw, it's just not good enough. My efforts are too little too late. At this point, I don't even know why I bothered making the effort.

Sitting here now, in my room, in the dark, maybe this is all coming out of me because I failed a class. It mattered, for once, and I let myself down. And now I'm trapped. I don't have the money to retake it, and I'm not going to graduate with my peers if I don't take the class this summer. But even if I did graduate, I doubt my life would change in the slightest. I'll still be living at home, with parents who don't believe in me at all, with a sister who looks up to me but who I can't protect, with a brother who doesn't give a shit about anyone but himself.

I'm going to work in the same store for the rest of my life, and I will deal with the same shit I get from everyone forever. Nothing changes. My life doesn't change. Every year it is the same, and it will continue to be the same from this moment to the next to the next.

Oh, did I mention that I'm shooting a movie without a director of photography? Big shock there that he forgot about my movie. Did I mention that I don't even know what I'm doing with that? And I want to yell at him for leaving me in my time of need, but he's too happy and excited that he's going away that I can't even open my mouth. I can't even tell him that without him, I can't shoot this movie, and if I can't shoot the movie, I will fail yet again. Not that I even have a location. God, the world around me must sense the epic failure that I am and therefore won't work with me on anything.

But I guess that is my curse. I will continue to watch everyone around me get what they want and be happy, and I'll just sit here. And I'll continue to whine even though I know it does nothing. First world problems, everybody.

The only hope I have at this point, and it kills me to even think this way, is that maybe the man I marry will get rich somehow and be able to support me. Either that, or the joke I have (about living in a cardboard box with "Home" scrawled along the outside in blood) will really come true. Or I can possibly sit on the corner and draw people as shitty anime characters from one angle with the same hair-style every time. That seems to be my only strong point at this time.

I think I've let this go on long enough. I can already anticipate the reaction this is getting, if any. A very scant few of you will read this, and those of you that do will be worried about me, and maybe that's what I want. Maybe I want someone to worry about me because then they can actually see how broken I am. I don't know why anyone even sees anything good in me when I'm so obviously wretched. That's probably why my friends at school never invite me out or have an awesome time with me.

Either way, you won't have to worry about hearing this kind of shit from me again. I only really update this once every two years, and I've sort of fallen out of the whole deviantART craze as it is. Maybe that's for the best. I'll save the internet from more shitty art. That's probably the best I can do.
© 2012 - 2024 WestK
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DarkAries's avatar
I can assure you, absolutely nobody who matters is going to care what you got an A on, or what you failed. They're not going to care how many years a diploma took, or what kind of average you had. Nobody will look at two resumes and pinpoint their decision on the difference between a 3.1 and a 3.5 GPA.

The answer to your question, though, 'When do we really start living?' is this: We start living when we stop simply surviving. That's why this constant competition against peers and professors really isn't good for some people. We compete for grades, we compete for attention, we compete for jobs, we compete for seniority, we compete for benefits, we compete and compete and compete. And didn't we form civilization so that we wouldn't have to fight with each other all the time?

I'm older than you, but not by much, and lemme tell you, this is sounding direly familiar to me. I thought I was going to live with my father, on the run, one step above being homeless, for the rest of my days. I would never have anything more than a crap job for pity-pay, with too much pride to ask anyone or anything for help. I was buried under the weight of jobs and schools and family and poverty and my rage at being unable to control or correct my situation. I survived, and that was the best I could claim.

And I dealt with that all the way up to only four years ago.

Now I'm getting married, I'm looking for jobs that I don't have to take seriously while keeping an eye towards my dream, we just bought a house (I'm supposed to be packing), and I'm living now that I'm not merely surviving.

We all have our periods of self-doubt and insecurity. We all feel the pressure. We all declare it the end of the world, and swear we can feel the cracks in our little psyches ever widening.

And sometimes...sometimes, we have our friends to remind us that everything turns out okay in the end, and if it's not okay, then it's not the end.

The world asks no more of us than to simply be.