I can't really believe how much has happened in my life, how I've changed over the years, how I've stayed the same in some respects (though I cannot say whether this is in the annoying or pathetic sense or whether this is actually a blessing). I have been a floater, I suppose, these last couple of years.
I graduated middle school, on my 18th, 6 years of gymnasium, subjects I loved and hated, straight, with no retakes. I was scared. I wasn't particularly happy or delightful about the future, the only deep feeling I had when I got my phone call informing me of my passing, was relief. Relief I didn't have to disappoint anyone, because obviously, disappointing a parent is the worst thing in the world, worse than being unhappy. It's funny how one can keep trying, running away from certain grounds, the past, their whole fundaments, and how much it can bite you in the ass. After middle school in which I didn't have to make any choice of my own, I suddenly had to make one anyway. How the hell do you make your own choice, when your parents, your teachers, have been telling you what you're good at, what you ought to find interesting and important, when you haven't made up your own mind? And really, is it your own choice? You have been brought up a certain way, with values, memories, certain standards, and a clear way seems to be made. But I didn't want that. I threw myself down a hole I had no idea where it lead. I went on to go to Art School, because they accepted me. For the first time in my life, I had to prove myself, and I could be rejected. But I was accepted.. and nothing else seemed very important to me. Somehow it felt good, as if I was special, as if I could be something noone had foreseen. This was something my parents weren't very keen on (I could tell), because I was the only one of us three who could easily have gone on to go to a university, get a good reliable job. Maybe I wanted to be like my brothers, who are older, always a step ahead in life and coolness, who always seemed to stand on one cloud above me, unreachable, better, needless to say I held them on a pedestal, as I still do. But I'm a thinker. I think too much. I do too little. That was my mistake in Arts School. Also my impending doom, the attachment I made to the idea of becoming a film maker. That is my one delusion, my beautiful dream, that I can't seem to crush. Not yet, I suppose.
After Art School was a year of work. Hanging out with friends. Dumbing and numbing myself down. I was never so unhappy I think. All of my insecurities came into the picture. I went to a psych for a couple of times, whom I told about my depressive moods, how it seemed I had more bad days than good days. How I always worry and hold myself back. Even at the psych, I was still often scared of how I was just another pathetic human being. With dreams I couldn't make real. Because, if they can't become reality, they end up just delusions, which can strangle you, hold you back, make you miserable. I feel like it might.
Now I'm back in school. University. Philosophy. It's hard. I feel stupid. I feel like I have to be a lot better. But I do feel older than the people in my class. I feel like I know a little bit more of the shits of the world. I just have to find a way to study again, teach myself, learn, concentrate. That used to be my strong point. I wonder if I can find that again, refocus, do my best, become secure in my abilities. I should have them. The end of januari I will try my application for Film Academy, I think my last. That will be the turning point.
Kisses from yourself on the 20th of December.
Don't forget you are not alone. And you like someone who seems to understand you. It has only been a week and a half, and you feel more like the world is actually working in a way it is supposed to, according to everyone else. It seems nice, this world.