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Rebekah King Rebekah King
Recommendations: 21

This Is Hard

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For Fools

Midnight ramblings of a troubled student...

It’s almost midnight. This assignment was due six hours ago, and I’m only going to get half marks for it now, so it’s not even worth writing. But half marks is still better than zero. But I can’t write it. Why? Because I don’t give a crap about the subject I’m supposed to be writing on. That and I just read the source material literally hours ago and none of it has absorbed. I don’t care about this. It’s nonsense, and it doesn’t matter to me in the slightest. How am I supposed to come up with 900 words on something I don’t give a single fuck about? I’m talking out of my ass and I hate it.

I’m in tears because I’m so tired and frustrated with myself. I do this every time because I work myself up about it and avoid it instead of just getting it done. I hate that I do this, I hate that I’m like this, I hate this. My friends are getting frustrated with me because I’m good at not knowing how to solve my problems, and bad at taking their advice. I don’t know how to just do something. I have to have a reason for doing it, or I don’t do it. And fifty percent is not a good enough reason.

When did I stop caring about my GPA? At what point did I say “fuck it” and decided to be less than the Distinction-capable student I know that I am? This is only the first year. If I can’t survive this, how will I make it through next year? And the year after? I don’t even want to think about it, because it makes me feel sick. In my heart I know I’m capable of doing this. But my head is stopping me. My head tells me “don’t worry about it right now” and it fucks me over later. My head tells me “this is impossible. It’s not worth it. You can’t do this. You’re not cut out for it. It’s a waste of time and money. It won’t help you anyway. You’ll never get the career you dream of, be the person you want to be. In two more years, you’ll be back serving sandwiches like you didn’t work your ass off to get a degree.” And I believe it all.

It must be so great to be one of those normal, functioning human beings that is always so positive and thinks life is amazing and everything just goes their way. I fucking hate those people with a violent passion, and what I wouldn’t give to be them. People that just breeze through University with next to perfect grades and don’t even look like they’re breaking a sweat. Well adjusted individuals that have never had to deal with problems like broken families, domestic unrest, Anxiety, Depression or just a general everyday feeling of insecurity and a brain that constantly tells you you’re not good enough.

Look how easily I’ve just spewed out 500 words now about how I’m feeling in this moment. How I’ve felt in many moments over this year. If only I could do this with my academic essays - just write about how I feel about something. It just spills out effortlessly. But 900 words on computer coding? Nope, can’t do that. Can’t find the words. Don’t give a crap to. Not worth fifty marks anyway. Would be more than fifty if I’d got my ass in gear. And around and around we go. It’s utterly exhausting being me.

This is hard. So hard. People who haven’t done it while dealing with the problems I’m dealing with do not understand how hard it is. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done. It’s a constant uphill battle of grappling with my self-worth and my dreams. And I swear, the next person who tells me it’s hard to get into my chosen field, I’m going to punch them in the face. I fucking know that, but I have nothing else. I refuse to serve sandwiches for the rest of my life and be a nobody. I’d rather lose all my money, friends and self-respect trying to do what I dream of doing than go back to that. I’d rather die than go back to that.

But even as I do the work I love, even as my director gives me encouraging words and tells me how much I’ve come out of my shell, I feel dead inside. Dead because all I can hear in my mind is “you’re not good enough. You’re never going to be good enough.” I doubt every creative decision I make. I always ask my director’s approval. I don’t trust that I’m doing it right. When people tell me I’m good, I don’t believe them. When people tell me I’m pretty, or look great in something, or look the part, I don’t believe them. When people tell me I’m talented and have a bright future, I don’t believe them. I only see what I see. I see a short, sad, unattractive, overweight girl who never fits in. Who never looks the part and can’t compare to everyone around her. When I see photos of my cast, I see how fabulous they all look, and how much I stick out because I don’t compare to them. When I see cosplay photos with my friends, I see how great they look, and how perfect their smiles are, and how much better they look than me. I hate what I see.

That was over 900 words. That could’ve been my assignment right there if they wanted a spiel about Anxiety and lack of self-confidence. My motivation has reached an all-time low and I don’t know that I can even finish my last few assignments. I don’t know that once I do, if I do, the three month break between now and next year will save me. I don’t know that I can do it. I don’t know that I want to do it. I don’t know that it’s worth it. I don’t know what my future holds. I can’t focus on my present. I’m scared for what is at the end of this if I make it there. What will come next for me if all my dreams don’t come true? How do I make them come true for myself? Is it even possible? I’m scared to know the answers, and I’m scared to never try.

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