It’s strange how much impact a parent’s words can have.
I’m an adult about to leave the nest. I haven’t cried in front of someone for years –
Until today.
It’s strange how much impact a parent’s words can have.
I’m an adult about to leave the nest. I haven’t cried in front of someone for years –
Until today.
I really don’t need a boyfriend. There are so many reasons for that. I don’t have time for one because I have to study and go to work and drama and driving lessons and volunteering. My last, only and I-don’t-even-know-if-I-can-call-it-a-relationship relationship was three years ago and ended with four other girls being involved, and my best friend deciding my boyfriend was more important to him than me. I can’t pretend though that I have a queue of boys lining up or anything. I can’t say im particularly attractive: let’s just say I use a lot of spot cream, sob into too much Ben and Jerry’s and watch too much Netflix.
I don’t need to be in a relationship to be happy. I don’t need to put myself down because I’m not in one.
But other parts of me disagree. Maybe it’s the hype for formal or the general grouping off of my year or the fact my ‘friends’ are being pretty mean with me at the moment and I just want someone who will at least care if they’re nice or not … So I have a completely unrealistic crush on this incredibly smart guy in my chemistry class. He asked me who I’m taking to formal today and whilst I know it was probably just general small talk, conspiracy theories are flying.
Where did my head go? This must stop before my thoughts surrounding our chemistry lower my grade in chemistry.
Call it teenage melodrama, call it life-altering career decisions – it’s been five days and I’m already stressed.
I’m a person that quite simply wants to help people. How does that entail aptitude tests and personal statements of 4000 characters to describe myself in a manner that will maybe differentiate myself from all the thousands of other applicants? How does my entire life, the entire process of choosing a career and the reasons why – fit into a page?
School, prefect responsibilities, the clubs I’m in, personal statements, aptitude tests, work … Why is it that every year life gets harder?
People are born from their mistakes.
I know I wouldn’t be the person I am now if it wasn’t for decisions I made at crucial turning points in my life. What I don’t know is if I am better or worse as a result.
Every year, around this time, I almost starve myself with the goal that the next year will be different. I look back on the times when I was mocked, ditched and alone, and I vow that I will change so that I won’t have to repeat this again next year. Because no one wants to eat lunch in the toilets. But sometimes I wonder whether I am the one that needs to change.
I used to say that the best thing about me is that I am unique.
Now I say that the thing about me is that I am a socially awkward incredibly sarcastic fat loser that studies too much, has acne, and has no friends.
And who put those words in my mouth? Why are we so concerned with vanity? What does it matter if I’m slightly more shy than you, if I have spots and you don’t, if I’m slightly heavier than you – does it mean that I’m not an interesting girl, a good person, a great friend? Of course not – but it does mean that a lot of people don’t want to know me as much as say, Kourtney Kardashian.
Perhaps the problem is that I am horrifically shy around people I don’t know. Or maybe it is because what I love about myself others don’t – I love my enthusiasm to learn everything I can about anything until the day I die, I love the odd way my mind works sometimes and I love that I am much more of a listener than a talker. That’s my nature; it cannot be changed like my appearance can to a degree.
I would like to be skinny with clear skin – it has been the wish on my breath as I extinguished my birthday candles for years, the goal of my diets, the aim of my exercise. I am just as bad for conforming to this vanity – by asking others to give me a second chance based on a new look that hides the old me. But to experience a year at school where I don’t walk alone through crowded corridors, where I don’t sob over lunch in the toilets, where I’m not mocked with new words based on old ideas that I have heard a thousand times … that would be justify every birthday wish.
No one believes it when they’re children; everyone says it when they’re older. I wished away my childhood and yearned to be older because why would I want to drink coke when my parents drank out of fancy wineglasses; why would I want to go to bed early while my older siblings stayed out late; why would I play with teddy bears when I could sleep alone like a big girl.
Exams are being marked; medical aptitude tests have been scheduled; universities are being chosen.
Now I miss it. I miss the feeling of running away screaming in the playground during a game of chasies, feeling like I was faster than the wind that beat against me, and returning to the classroom panting with bloody knees and a grin on my face matching that of a triumphant warrior returning from battle. I miss the innocence of perceiving God as an old man smiling down at me from the clouds and the comfort of my guardian angel at my side. I miss having decisions made for me; of who my friends were, of where I would go to school, of what extracurriculars I was involved in.
I am seventeen; I know I am still I child and I remain ignorant in so many ways that I am sure anyone forced to read my whingings will find them simultaneously hysterical and grammatically incorrect.
One of my teachers frequently described school as a train that got faster and faster as the years went on. I feel like the train is forcing me down a route that I haven’t fully chosen but it’s so fast now that I cannot safely jump out. I feel like I started off the year at a crossroad between medicine and writing, and everyday has had me hurtling further and further away from the latter to move towards the former. Money has been sent on medical aptitude tests, conversations at home are peppered with tips on applying to medical universities, and it is now expected that I will pursue medicine as a career. No one mentions an alternative anymore; as has been emphasised for the past several years an English degree in this economic climate is considered idiotic and a waste of money. I feel like a bride contemplating jilting her fiance at the alter because I keep wondering if it is too late to back out. I want to save lives, but – as pretentious and arrogant as it sounds given my limited grasp on the English language – I also want to provide people with reason to live.
In many ways I feel like I am standing alone on the shore as a tsunami wave rises. I have only a month to decide whether to remain standing and allow the water to sweep me up and carry me like driftwood along the existing current towards medicine. Or I could run fast far away from the flow of water and play with fire instead.
But tonight I do not chose to fight or flight; tonight I look back to the happier easier times of childhood when inconsequential decisions were made for me. Yet remembering that blissful feeling of freedom makes me wonder whether I should allow my parents to make one final life altering decision on my behalf by closing my eyes and welcoming the tsunami that is already hurtling towards me at a horrifying rate.
Dreaming my way through life.
Healthy = Confidence = Success
"Be happy for this moment. This moment is your life." - Omar Khayyám
teen ramblings on to you.
Essays on Creative Nonfiction
"Friendship is born at that moment when one person says to another: What! You too? I thought I was the only one." CS Lewis
The adventures of a child trapped in a woman's body.
a place to put my thoughts on paper
I Win