Nothing interesting has happened lately. Well, except for the photo shoot where we had to wear gowns on the lake, or when some guy I used to date unblocked me on Twitter, or that I dropped a class for the first time in my 14 years of being a student. Or that pimples are fielding my ever prominent forehead.
Lately, I haven't looked forward to anything so much that I long for the night, the time when I lay in bed and finally close my eyes and lose contact with reality.
I am pressured because this year, I am turning 18 and I am not even certain who among these people I know I am supposed to invite if I were to celebrate. I have three months left to prepare but I have so much bs to deal with.
I think of reading my previous posts, but it occurs that it may only remind me off all the things I regret doing. How does anyone even use the phrase "no regrets?" Many times these days I contemplate on the differences if I have chosen the alternate pathway. Perhaps it would have been right. Perhaps my vision of what this school year would be wouldn't have been bent. Perhaps I would have been living an ideal life, the life I've always dreamed of. Lately, I have been realizing a lot of frustrations. I'd be satisfied if I performed so well that I lived up to my full potential. I'd feel better about myself if I had reacted to things differently. Perhaps, at this time of my life, shame and remorse is the highlight.
I was conscious - very conscious - when I made those decisions myself. I was wide awake when I chose to become a badass for a "damn good list of misadventures." Before I turn 18, I always told myself, do what you want (as long as you do not put someone's life at stake) and then when you turn legal, you will be your damn ideal self. But that idea, somehow has fucked me up even more. Perhaps years from now I'd say, "Damn, I was sick at 17," but right now, if I hadn't thought of that, I wouldn't have been sick at all.
What seems to be therapeutic now is watching the latest episodes of Pretty Little Liars and eating sour gecko or thinking about the time when I finally get to drive a car. Maybe therapy isn't what I need. I have done such things a lot of times but I haven't got rid of this angst just yet.
I miss my friends. The real ones. The ones I chose. I hope to get in touch with them ASAP but finals week is coming up. I am excited about the fact that I am getting a refund from my scholarship but I do not know where to spend the money on. 2 years ago or so, I knew exactly what I wanted. I wish I were the version of me who admired tomorrows and looked forward to possibilities.
I hope to get in touch with myself again and find nice places to spend afternoons on and never become insecure but instead, confident that I've got a face that could be my canvas, a body I could carve, a mind I could revive and a soul that could touch hearts.
Love,
Clare.
Lately, I haven't looked forward to anything so much that I long for the night, the time when I lay in bed and finally close my eyes and lose contact with reality.
I am pressured because this year, I am turning 18 and I am not even certain who among these people I know I am supposed to invite if I were to celebrate. I have three months left to prepare but I have so much bs to deal with.
I think of reading my previous posts, but it occurs that it may only remind me off all the things I regret doing. How does anyone even use the phrase "no regrets?" Many times these days I contemplate on the differences if I have chosen the alternate pathway. Perhaps it would have been right. Perhaps my vision of what this school year would be wouldn't have been bent. Perhaps I would have been living an ideal life, the life I've always dreamed of. Lately, I have been realizing a lot of frustrations. I'd be satisfied if I performed so well that I lived up to my full potential. I'd feel better about myself if I had reacted to things differently. Perhaps, at this time of my life, shame and remorse is the highlight.
I was conscious - very conscious - when I made those decisions myself. I was wide awake when I chose to become a badass for a "damn good list of misadventures." Before I turn 18, I always told myself, do what you want (as long as you do not put someone's life at stake) and then when you turn legal, you will be your damn ideal self. But that idea, somehow has fucked me up even more. Perhaps years from now I'd say, "Damn, I was sick at 17," but right now, if I hadn't thought of that, I wouldn't have been sick at all.
What seems to be therapeutic now is watching the latest episodes of Pretty Little Liars and eating sour gecko or thinking about the time when I finally get to drive a car. Maybe therapy isn't what I need. I have done such things a lot of times but I haven't got rid of this angst just yet.
I miss my friends. The real ones. The ones I chose. I hope to get in touch with them ASAP but finals week is coming up. I am excited about the fact that I am getting a refund from my scholarship but I do not know where to spend the money on. 2 years ago or so, I knew exactly what I wanted. I wish I were the version of me who admired tomorrows and looked forward to possibilities.
I hope to get in touch with myself again and find nice places to spend afternoons on and never become insecure but instead, confident that I've got a face that could be my canvas, a body I could carve, a mind I could revive and a soul that could touch hearts.
Love,
Clare.
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