Just a quick note from a possibly terrible person.



So, I’ve been thinking about writing something on here for a long time, but then it just never happened. Before I knew it over a year had already gone by. Basically what’s happened since then is that I’m almost a year older, I graduated from high school and am attending university right now (but I hate it and I’m thinking of dropping out). However, don’t be alarmed! So far I’ve only taken this one single course, and it turned out to be entirely wrong for me. I’m hoping I get into the Journalism Program after summer though, I think that’s what I really want to study.

Should I be honest I don’t really want to study anything. I don’t want to go to university, and I don’t want to get a job. I spend most of my days being depressed and feeling sad for myself. The only reason that I study is because my mom wants me to. She’s always contradicting herself, one day she’s telling me to do what I want to do, and then the next she’s telling me I have to get a degree from university no matter what. Even I know that, that’s not what I have a problem with. I feel as if she’s simply trying to push her dreams and desires on me. When I told her I had applied for the  Journalism Program and was looking forward to it, all she said was that she felt it wasn’t right for me. I was seriously tempted to ask her what she thought was right for me. And then I almost wanted to tell her to simply plan what I should do with the rest of my life, and then I’d do it. Of course I didn’t say any of that, I’m too much of a coward.

I’ve always been bad with people and social situations. If I actually saw a psychologist I’d tell them I think I have social anxiety disorder. It’s gotten so much worse, you probably couldn’t even imagine. Some days I even have to take ten minutes before I dare leave my room, and it’s just my family at home. I have no ambition or strength whatsoever. There’s nothing I want to do in life. I just want to write, write, write, write, write, and write. On my books mostly, but even on meaningless, silly things. That’s what I really want to do. The only thing I want to do. I don’t want to study, not even journalism, and I don’t want to work. I just want to write.

Thing is I wake up every morning and I hate the idea of going outside, I’m scared of embarrassing myself in front of strangers, and there’s no one at university that I’ve befriended (there’s these three girls I eat lunch with and sit with during classes; we have absolutely nothing in common). I can’t bear the thought of going out and speak with people. I can’t bear the thought of getting out bed in the morning, unless it is to go sit in front of the computer, or to read a book. The only time I really enjoy going out is when I’m going to the cinema, because I know it won’t require much socializing (and the movie is usually also good). I hate the reality that my mom seems to have a totally different image of what I’m like compared to what I’m really like, but I guess I’m to blame for that because of all the lies and never showing her those parts of me. I hate the fact that my friends are expecting things of me, and that I’m always letting them down. What I hate most is that I’m excited when we make plans, but the more I think about it the more horrible I feel, and then I hate myself for feeling so relieved when I cancel those plans we’ve made. I want to tell them that it’s nothing personal, that I get exhausted spending time with anyone,it doesn’t have anything to do with them, but I don’t know if they’d understand. So in the end I’m left feeling like a terrible person, but I don’t know if that’s so bad, because I’m pretty sure I might actually be a terrible person.

I try to remember when this all started, but I can’t seem to recall any longer. And it’s only gotten worse over the years. It was good when I was in tenth and eleventh grade, but I think that because it got better, it got so much worse when it stopped being good. And here I am, worse than ever. Almost every morning I wish I didn’t have to wake up. I’ve felt depressed for a long time, not suicidal, but depressed. I’m sick of being tired all the time, and constantly being unhappy. But I also know it’s probably not going to change any time soon, and I’ve accepted that.

I didn’t mean to ramble on like this, I simply wanted you to know why I haven’t written anything recently. Mostly because it’s too depressing, and also because there’s not much that’s happening in my life. At the moment, or ever.