New Story
Hey guys, i just wrote this new story. It's no pairing or character, it's supposed to be like thoughts written in a journal. I don't want to spoil it, but i was just inspired to write it about 30 minutes ago and it's the first time i've been inspired to write in ages. So, here it is hope you like it.
Life
Have you ever had one of those days? You know, when life just becomes one huge question? I don’t know, maybe it’s just me, but today life was one huge question. Nothing made sense; I didn’t understand why I did anything that I have in my life. Choices of boyfriends, jobs, college. None of it. It had all be completely clear at the time. But today, I was walking down the street, minding my own business and drinking a caramel frappuccino and suddenly it hit me. What is life? What is MY life all about? And it’s all I’ve been able to think about since.
First I went back to work after lunch and did what I had to do. I came home, ate dinner, had a bath and then I had nothing else to do but sit. And so, I have had no choice but to think about it. So that’s what I’ve been doing for the past three hours. Thinking about it. About my life from as far back as I can remember. And do you want to know just what I’ve thought? It’s quite lengthy considering I’m 26 years old so there’s quite a lot to say but here it is.
I started off thinking about elementary school. You know what it’s like back then. You’re innocent and you can just go with the flow and enjoy life. But even then, at like 8 years old we still have problems. Our life can still be hell and we can still hate it. Looking back, the majority of what annoyed us was completely trivial and pathetic but it was important to us then. So it must have been important in the grand scheme of things right? I mean, I remember one time, I was in fifth grade and my mom had given me peanut butter and jelly for lunch. I’d had it two days in a row so I decided to swap it with my friend for I can’t remember what exactly, it was some kind of lunch meat (I just remember I had p- b and j because, well, it’s what I always had) so we swapped. And I took hers and ate it. And for some reason it made me sick. It got me a day off from school the next day. But why did I swap lunches? Was it just because I was fed up of peanut butter and jelly or was I secretly hoping to get sick so that I could have a day off from school? I don’t know the answer to that question but I wondered about it today.
Then I thought about 8th grade and my first real date. It was a guy who sat behind me in French class. I had hardly ever spoken to him and when I had it had only been to ask if I could borrow a pencil. But he asked me to some valentines day dance and o said yes. But I’m still not sure why. I think it was because my friends all had dates and I didn’t want to be the odd one out. And it was such a terrible date, so awkward. He talked all night about something so dull I can’t remember what it was. And then he wouldn’t dance so I was standing on the sidelines, watching my friends with their dates having the time of their lives. But I hadn’t wanted to be left out by having a date. I didn’t want my friends to think I was a loser. So for two months I dated a guy I had completely NO interest in until he decided I was boring and dumped me.
The whole theme of guys kept up through high school too. Dating guys within my ‘social’ group, because to date someone from outside of it, well that would be a disaster. And the thing was, we were kind of popular in high school, so you can guess the kind of guys I ended up dating. Jocks, and just basically guys who were incredibly cute with zero substance. They liked drinking and partying and sports and I went along with it, even though I preferred to sit in my room with a book or my diary or in front of my computer writing a new story but I couldn’t tell them that. When I started dating the real Mr Popular though, I even ended up allowing my friends to persuade me to become a cheerleader. I had no interest in it but I went along with it so that my boyfriend could keep up his image. Cheerleading, the most annoying and dull ‘sport’ on the planet. I would hardly class it as a sport but I was repeatedly told that it was, so of course it must have been true. I was a cheerleader until college.
And THAT is where the parental pressure comes in. I wanted to go into writing. Do a degree in journalism or something, but my whole life my mom and dad had been saying how much they would like a lawyer or a doctor in the family. Well I didn’t go pre- law or pre- med but I did manage to keep them happy by agreeing to do psychology, the way my mom looked at it I was still some kind of doctor. So, although it wasn’t what I really wanted I did 5 years of school to get my graduates degree in psychology. They were so proud. I was miserable, I almost joined the college newspaper at one time, but my dad pointed out that whilst extra curriculars are good, the newspaper wasn’t exactly fitting the right credentials for a psychologist. Instead he pulled some strings and got me an internship with a local practice. That was a lot of fun. Not.
And boyfriends? Well that didn’t change very much. I still dated guys that I didn’t like but who I looked good with. Who fit the right image, the kind I could take home to daddy and he’s be incredibly impressed with their background in high school sports and their future career as a lawyer. Not my type at all, but eventually we all have an image to keep up. I moved in at 23 with a guy I dated for 6 months, sure he was nice enough, he was cute and sweet. And he was pre- ;aw of course, was I happy? Not really? Did I break up with him? Nope. Why? Because I didn’t know how. I didn’t really think that I could. I had become so accustomed to dating guys like him that I figured I may as well stick with the one I had now. Even if he was a bit boring and really at 23 I still had a lot of living ahead of me. I just couldn’t do it. I had graduated I had a job. I was expected to have stability now. Be a grown up and be responsible. Have a good job, get married. All of that.
Did it really matter what I wanted? No. Not really. Because it’s an image. And now here I am, 26 years old, working as a psychologist, not a profession I hate but not what I’m passionate about. Still writing in my journal and writing stories that nobody will ever see. Still with a guy that I don’t love because people expect it.
That’s what I’ve discovered. My life, it’s not really mine. Since I was a kid, I have lived my way the way others have wanted or at least how I thought others wanted. I didn’t have the guts to say what I wanted and date the guys I liked, and do the degree I wanted. I let people sway me the way they saw my life going. The direction they gave me. Not the direction I figured out for myself. But isn’t that how we all lead our lives? Deep down, we all care way too much about what other people want from us and how they expect us to live our lives and it has taken me this long to figure that out. That I’m leading the lives of lots of other people, but not even partially my own, because none of it is what I decided really, and definitely not what I wanted. And do you know what’s the scariest part? I’ll keep it up. I’ll go back to work tomorrow, crawl in to bed beside my stable boyfriend tonight. And live my life as if I never figured any of this out.
Life
Have you ever had one of those days? You know, when life just becomes one huge question? I don’t know, maybe it’s just me, but today life was one huge question. Nothing made sense; I didn’t understand why I did anything that I have in my life. Choices of boyfriends, jobs, college. None of it. It had all be completely clear at the time. But today, I was walking down the street, minding my own business and drinking a caramel frappuccino and suddenly it hit me. What is life? What is MY life all about? And it’s all I’ve been able to think about since.
First I went back to work after lunch and did what I had to do. I came home, ate dinner, had a bath and then I had nothing else to do but sit. And so, I have had no choice but to think about it. So that’s what I’ve been doing for the past three hours. Thinking about it. About my life from as far back as I can remember. And do you want to know just what I’ve thought? It’s quite lengthy considering I’m 26 years old so there’s quite a lot to say but here it is.
I started off thinking about elementary school. You know what it’s like back then. You’re innocent and you can just go with the flow and enjoy life. But even then, at like 8 years old we still have problems. Our life can still be hell and we can still hate it. Looking back, the majority of what annoyed us was completely trivial and pathetic but it was important to us then. So it must have been important in the grand scheme of things right? I mean, I remember one time, I was in fifth grade and my mom had given me peanut butter and jelly for lunch. I’d had it two days in a row so I decided to swap it with my friend for I can’t remember what exactly, it was some kind of lunch meat (I just remember I had p- b and j because, well, it’s what I always had) so we swapped. And I took hers and ate it. And for some reason it made me sick. It got me a day off from school the next day. But why did I swap lunches? Was it just because I was fed up of peanut butter and jelly or was I secretly hoping to get sick so that I could have a day off from school? I don’t know the answer to that question but I wondered about it today.
Then I thought about 8th grade and my first real date. It was a guy who sat behind me in French class. I had hardly ever spoken to him and when I had it had only been to ask if I could borrow a pencil. But he asked me to some valentines day dance and o said yes. But I’m still not sure why. I think it was because my friends all had dates and I didn’t want to be the odd one out. And it was such a terrible date, so awkward. He talked all night about something so dull I can’t remember what it was. And then he wouldn’t dance so I was standing on the sidelines, watching my friends with their dates having the time of their lives. But I hadn’t wanted to be left out by having a date. I didn’t want my friends to think I was a loser. So for two months I dated a guy I had completely NO interest in until he decided I was boring and dumped me.
The whole theme of guys kept up through high school too. Dating guys within my ‘social’ group, because to date someone from outside of it, well that would be a disaster. And the thing was, we were kind of popular in high school, so you can guess the kind of guys I ended up dating. Jocks, and just basically guys who were incredibly cute with zero substance. They liked drinking and partying and sports and I went along with it, even though I preferred to sit in my room with a book or my diary or in front of my computer writing a new story but I couldn’t tell them that. When I started dating the real Mr Popular though, I even ended up allowing my friends to persuade me to become a cheerleader. I had no interest in it but I went along with it so that my boyfriend could keep up his image. Cheerleading, the most annoying and dull ‘sport’ on the planet. I would hardly class it as a sport but I was repeatedly told that it was, so of course it must have been true. I was a cheerleader until college.
And THAT is where the parental pressure comes in. I wanted to go into writing. Do a degree in journalism or something, but my whole life my mom and dad had been saying how much they would like a lawyer or a doctor in the family. Well I didn’t go pre- law or pre- med but I did manage to keep them happy by agreeing to do psychology, the way my mom looked at it I was still some kind of doctor. So, although it wasn’t what I really wanted I did 5 years of school to get my graduates degree in psychology. They were so proud. I was miserable, I almost joined the college newspaper at one time, but my dad pointed out that whilst extra curriculars are good, the newspaper wasn’t exactly fitting the right credentials for a psychologist. Instead he pulled some strings and got me an internship with a local practice. That was a lot of fun. Not.
And boyfriends? Well that didn’t change very much. I still dated guys that I didn’t like but who I looked good with. Who fit the right image, the kind I could take home to daddy and he’s be incredibly impressed with their background in high school sports and their future career as a lawyer. Not my type at all, but eventually we all have an image to keep up. I moved in at 23 with a guy I dated for 6 months, sure he was nice enough, he was cute and sweet. And he was pre- ;aw of course, was I happy? Not really? Did I break up with him? Nope. Why? Because I didn’t know how. I didn’t really think that I could. I had become so accustomed to dating guys like him that I figured I may as well stick with the one I had now. Even if he was a bit boring and really at 23 I still had a lot of living ahead of me. I just couldn’t do it. I had graduated I had a job. I was expected to have stability now. Be a grown up and be responsible. Have a good job, get married. All of that.
Did it really matter what I wanted? No. Not really. Because it’s an image. And now here I am, 26 years old, working as a psychologist, not a profession I hate but not what I’m passionate about. Still writing in my journal and writing stories that nobody will ever see. Still with a guy that I don’t love because people expect it.
That’s what I’ve discovered. My life, it’s not really mine. Since I was a kid, I have lived my way the way others have wanted or at least how I thought others wanted. I didn’t have the guts to say what I wanted and date the guys I liked, and do the degree I wanted. I let people sway me the way they saw my life going. The direction they gave me. Not the direction I figured out for myself. But isn’t that how we all lead our lives? Deep down, we all care way too much about what other people want from us and how they expect us to live our lives and it has taken me this long to figure that out. That I’m leading the lives of lots of other people, but not even partially my own, because none of it is what I decided really, and definitely not what I wanted. And do you know what’s the scariest part? I’ll keep it up. I’ll go back to work tomorrow, crawl in to bed beside my stable boyfriend tonight. And live my life as if I never figured any of this out.