Where My Efforts Go

Dear lovely people reading this,

I feel exceedingly bad that this blog - although it does document my journey in life and growing personality - has become a place for me to complain about the issues in my life. I never hope to use the word 'unfair' here. It's not a concept I believe in and I don't think it would benefit me or you darling readers in any way. At the same time, I don't want to sugar-coat things and tell you my life is going great because that would be lying - which I am 100% against.

So what am I going to rant about today? Well, it's something that upset me today.

As you know, I write a lot. In a day, I probably write a minimum of 10,000 words - but that's because I'm an English student and it's expected of me. Also, I'm not saying that any of my 10,000 words will be any good. They usually end up in the bin. I put in a lot of effort into my writing because I enjoy it and I really do think it's an outlet for me, especially creative writing. So you can imagine why it's such a big shock for me when I get my essay back and the feedback literally says: 'needs proofreading'.

Excuse me while I mentally choke something.

I'm not angry at my teacher, just at myself. Because damn it, I proofread so many times and I still make mistakes.

And while I was having a mini-meltdown in the classroom, I realised that I've been spending too much time in the world of fanfiction (again). This essay that I wrote was half-filled with concepts and ideas that I used in my own creative writing. And that was when my anger dissipated into disappointment, then into embarrassment, then into shame.

How could I have been so stupid as to neglect my own education?

Yet I can't leave my blog, or my fanfiction, or my poetry, or my reading alone. They genuinely bring me joy. How was I supposed to give it all up?

It doesn't help that one of my best friends who lives far away from me sent me a message saying she was worried about me. She certainly had the right to be, but I was more concerned by the fact that I had been seen through. Even miles away, she could see something was wrong. And I was touched by her concern.

I've felt like nothing's gone right these past few months. I feel like I've made no progress and that really demoralises me. When I thought that there was someone out there who cared, it made me desperate. I instantly wanted to reconnect with her. I don't know if you've ever felt this starved for human contact in your life, but it's a pretty sad thing.

I don't want to rely on her, but I also don't want to be sad. So I decided not to see her.

Maybe I'll regret it later. Maybe, like the essay, I'll realise I made a horrific mistake. Maybe I won't. But at least this is my decision.

Do you think this is a twisted way of thinking? Because sometimes I do. I feel like I've gone too far with this. Yet at the same time i can't stop. It's addictive to 'be yourself'. It's addictive to find myself, even when I'm buried ten feet under.

I don't plan to stop - with writing either. And I can only hope you don't give up on me.

Where Everything Is Ahead

You don't know much about me so I thought I could lead with that today.

I am an English undergraduate, studying in Scotland. And it's beautiful here, but at university it isn't the location that matters most. At least not where I am. It's about prestige.

While lectures are insightful, they are over-complicated. I am often made to think that my opinion is of no significance, and that I should be reading critical essays more so than novels which I enjoy. 

I feel inferior, more often than not, in the area in which I am supposed to excel. All the friends that I have managed to make seem to more people to be overshadowed by. Sometimes, I can't help but feel contempt. 

'I'm writing my own novel.' 

'I published my poems.'

'I won a literary prize.'

'I'm student ambassador.' 

I share in their joy, of course. But sometimes I feel like it's too much and I'm drowning in my own uselessness. I can't do any of that. In fact, I'm doing lots of extra work just to keep up. I barely have time to enjoy student life.

For goodness sake, I write fanfiction! I'm writing gay unacknowledged fanfiction and they're winning laureates. I feel so behind. And I used to be okay with that because I thought: at least I'm having fun.

Writing is this artistic form that I've come to love. But ever since coming to this place, I feel the joy being sucked out of me. I don't know what I'm writing, and more importantly, I don't know what I'm writing for.

I have this friend who is your stereotypical scientist. As if to contrast him, I have a friend who is your stereotypical artist. I have to thank my stars for them, because they sent me on this path. Yet when I'm next to them, I feel worthless.

Do you need validation to be a person? I think I do. But is it just me? Is that a problem? Is that when I need to start seeing a therapist? 

Looking at it, it seems like I'm bitter. Maybe I am. But I don't want to be. 

It feels like I'm caught in a limbo and I can't escape. I thought this blog would be a place I could escape to, fade into anonymity or even be acknowledged as somebody that I am not. No matter how many steps I take towards becoming somebody, I get lost along the way. 

Do you ever feel that way? Or is it just me being pathetic? 

Scotland is a great place to get lost.

The air is always nipping at your skin, the sun is barely there, the thick accents of locals make you feel so different and you find yourself in the open. You're always just there, with nothing else to help you. I thought it would be therapeutic or even romantic, but after spending months in the same open space, with the whistling of the cold air being the only music you hear, I think it can drive people insane.

I used to think that this was a fake Scotland. Scotland is industrial, full of enthusiastic people and chippies everywhere. But the Scotland I find myself in is desolate. It's quite far from this picture I found online and maybe I'll share the views from where I am with you. One day.

You should really come visit. 

Saying that, I went to Tokyo during my winter break. It's a great city, full of fun things in every corner and I found myself just as lost. The lights that I craved from the countryside of Scotland was so blinding that I got confused. I could see how beautiful it was and how I could be happy there, yet I wasn't. I couldn't make myself happy. 

That's when I thought: am I clinically depressed?

But I was too scared to venture that far. So for now, you can be my judge. You can be my friend who won't put pressure on me. You can be my critic, my teacher. You can push me further.

You should tell me what I should write about next. My trip? My friends? My writing? My life?

You should also tell me how to blog, because I clearly suck at this.