So I must be going through a rough patch as of recent, because I am just having a terrible time with everything. My mood swings from happy to sad, my attitude changes in an instant. I go from nice to bitch in under three seconds (a new record!) and I have no idea why.
It’s probably stress, but I don’t believe in stress! I’m taking three AP tests in two weeks that will determine how much I have to pay for college along with my SAT on May 1st which will hopefully get me good scholarships. I’m in eight clubs, I try to assist the community, I try to keep good grades, and I try to still be a friend. Instead of excelling in one thing, I am failing in all. I’m not doing well in my classes, I’m not being a good friend, I’m not going to do well on the SAT, and I don’t assist the community as much as I used to.
I hate myself and everything that happens to me. I hate that I fall; I hate that I get angry about things; I hate that I hate myself. I have had such low self-esteem as of recent that I’ve been having these terrible nightmares about the people around me hating me, shunning me, despising me. I cannot get that out of my head. I feel like everyone is annoyed by me. I feel like I am failing everyone, especially myself.
I had dreams. I wanted to be something. I had a drive. I never expected for myself to turn out like this. I never expected that I would be a seventeen year old girl on the verge of tears over my chemistry grade, or unable to go places because I don’t have the money. I never wanted to be this person. I wanted to be the first in my class, I wanted to go to a college out of state, I wanted to be successful and have the makings of a happy life. Guess what? That hasn’t happened.
I think the thing I hate most is that I don’t read. I never thought I would be that person—the guy who is too busy to read. I never thought it would take me weeks to read the Grapes of Wrath. I never would have even dreamed that I would only read four books in four months. I’ve become as literate as the freshmen in my Spanish class, able yet unwilling to read.
What drives this seemingly sudden hate? Probably some rather alarming news about my grandmother, who officially can’t live independently. The last visit I had last weekend was the last time she would ever recognize me as her granddaughter, because her mind is gone now. She’s confused; she’s old. The decadence of the mind leads to many thought stimulating questions, and uncovers many insecurities.
What do I want to do with my life? Where can I go? What can I be? Will I be happy? Will it be worth it? Will I grow old? Will I die next week? Will this life be worth it? Should I spend time worrying about money, or should I focus on that happiness? Should I want a family, or success? Should my focus be on happy children or a happy me? Where is the line and how do I find it?
These insecurities make me hate myself even more. I hate that I don’t know who I am. I hate that I wont ever know who I am until I’m old and decrepit, and once I finally figure it out I lose it all. Is it worth it?
On the bright side, here’s a quote from my favorite book: “There is neither happiness nor misery in the world; there is only the comparison of one state with another, nothing more. He who has felt the deepest grief is best able to experience supreme happiness.”
The Count of Monte Cristo
I’m pretty miserable right now… so maybe soon I’ll be pretty happy! It’s a comparison!
I still love you, even if I don’t love myself!
Elizabeth <3
