There are times in our lives when we know everything.
Or rather, we think we do. Or maybe we actually do. Maybe we only know what we want to do right now, right this second, and we have no idea what lies beyond then, or maybe we have our whole lives mapped out. Maybe we know exactly what we want from the future, but we have no idea how to reach out and grab it. And maybe we don't have a clue. Maybe we're having opportunities and ideas thrust upon us left, right, and centre, and it's confusing the hell out of us. Maybe we're finding passions and talents we never even knew we had and we have no idea what to do about them.
When you find something and you know, without a shadow of a doubt, that it's what you want to spend your life doing, you want to do it now. You don't want any other subjects or distractions getting in the way. I was lucky enough to be one of those people who found that elusive instantaneous 'click', that moment where something sparks inside your brain and you sit up straight, thinking, knowing 'this is it'. But I'm not one of those people who finds exams particularly easy, so getting to a point where I can do only English Language (i.e. at university) is going to be hard. It's very irritating really, knowing you could excel at something if only you didn't have to worry about other things as well.
What really gets on my nerves is when people tell me how lucky I am. Yes, I am lucky. I know that. I have had opportunities this summer alone that some people don't get in a lifetime. I've got (to quote my mother) 'a lovely family, a nice secure home in a lovely environment, you're gorgeous, and you're healthy (apparently)'. And yes, of course I know that. Of course I know I could be much worse off. I know that there are people all over the world who are less fortunate than me. But seriously, I'm still entitled to a bad mood every once in a while! 'What exactly have you got to worry about?' she says. 'Your life is perfect.' And oh, mother, if only you knew exactly how unperfect my life is. And she gives me a list of all the things she has to do - and I appreciate how busy she is, of course I do, and I'm sorry I don't always have time to tidy my room but frankly I rate passing my exams more highly. And gah, when she says 'I know you're not doing work up there' - well of course I am! How could I pass if I didn't? Obviously I'm not doing work all the time, but I'm not a robot. It's all right for her, she already knows where her life is going and she's got everything she needs all planned out. She's my mum. I mean, nuff said, right? Though sometimes I wonder about who she used to be and what she really wanted from life...
Sometimes I want to write, but I don't know what. The inspiration is there, within me, but I can't find the right words to express it - it's the most frustrating feeling in the world. I feel that way now; that's why I'm here. The whole reason of this blog's existence is for moments like this, so that I don't have to bore any of my friends with my pretentious sentimentality.
Primary school. Secondary school. College. Education. Why does it go so fast? Why is it that people consider the perspective of children and young adults invalid simply because they're young? We have to go through so many experiences, so many learning curves, throughout the years of our schooling that we grow up far more quickly than perhaps we should... because if we don't, we're ridiculed for it. Funny, isn't it, that sheep are the considered the most brainless creatures in existence, and yet they are the metaphor we use to describe the majority of the human race. Funny and yet so understandable. But I don't want to be a sheep. I can't baaa. And trust me, I've tried. To baa, I mean, as well as to fit in. But I just don't. I know I've said all this before but I can't understand why it took me seventeen years to realize that it's okay to be different - good, in fact.
Yes, I don't dress like the 'popular' people. I don't go out every weekend. I'm friends with my freaking teachers, for God's sake, and that's pretty weird. But I like it. I like... myself. Don't get me wrong: I'm highly pissed off, frustrated and angered by myself, but occasionally I catch a glimpse of this girl in the mirror and I think, who's she? She's much stronger and more capable than I am, more talented, better looking even. When did I become her?
And yes, I sound up myself. So I'll mention the other days, when the mirror shows me a fat, ugly girl who can't do anything, never finishes anything, fails every goal she or anybody else has ever set her. Especially those private goals that don't seem to matter to other people, but are the centre of her own little universe. Why are compliments forgotten and insults remembered? Why does it take so long to build confidence and so little to destroy it?
And on that note I run out of things to say. I'll be back at some point in the future to tease some more words into optimistically interesting sentences.
Molly x
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