Wonder if she's gone to stay
I sold two of my prom dresses on Ebay this weekend. Dunno why, but it makes me feel sort of sad inside, like I was selling my memories along with them. I know i'll never wear them again, why be 17 again? It's so much cooler to be 22 and almost finished with college and looking back every day to see if there was anything i could have done to have made it better for myself.
It's recently occurred to me how bitter I sound about everything. I honestly don't know how I keep the friends I have, I wouldn't want to be friends with me. I'm stressed out every day over things I can't control and thus shouldn't care about, my shoulder/neck has been hurting me for over a week, and my professor thinks I should see a physical therapist, I can't play my violin without pain, it's a mess.
I have my writing. Two of my professors congratulated me on respective papers that I wrote for their classes. It feels nice, but hollow. Like winning a teen beauty pageant and then finding out the next day that you're pregnant. Yep, that's wholesome, 12-grain bitterness coming at ya.
My father is always telling me "not to sell myself short", but I'm being honest. I don't think that a bit of healthy doubt about one's actual degree of fabulousness cost them the career they always dreamed of. I can feign confidence, I can be my mother's daughter, that's not the point. I always deliver.
But i'm tired of delivering. I want it to look effortless, not difficult. I want to be happy, and that's been the hardest thing in my whole life. Tasks I can master, I can do assignments, I can learn pieces of music. I can't make myself smile.
I can't believe it's been four years already.
It's recently occurred to me how bitter I sound about everything. I honestly don't know how I keep the friends I have, I wouldn't want to be friends with me. I'm stressed out every day over things I can't control and thus shouldn't care about, my shoulder/neck has been hurting me for over a week, and my professor thinks I should see a physical therapist, I can't play my violin without pain, it's a mess.
I have my writing. Two of my professors congratulated me on respective papers that I wrote for their classes. It feels nice, but hollow. Like winning a teen beauty pageant and then finding out the next day that you're pregnant. Yep, that's wholesome, 12-grain bitterness coming at ya.
My father is always telling me "not to sell myself short", but I'm being honest. I don't think that a bit of healthy doubt about one's actual degree of fabulousness cost them the career they always dreamed of. I can feign confidence, I can be my mother's daughter, that's not the point. I always deliver.
But i'm tired of delivering. I want it to look effortless, not difficult. I want to be happy, and that's been the hardest thing in my whole life. Tasks I can master, I can do assignments, I can learn pieces of music. I can't make myself smile.
I can't believe it's been four years already.