This is one of those times where I have so much to say, yet it doesn't seem like I'm able to put it on paper or form the words to say. As of now, sitting on my bed, fingers at the ready, I am struggling to know what the words are that I need/want to type out to let your eyes look at. I long to be able to pour my heart out as easily as it is to pour a glass of milk for breakfast. I long to be able to come up with quaint sayings that are remember-able, but I should just face it - I'm no Shakespeare or Nicholas Sparks. If I want to blog-about-my-feelings, I can't just think it'll happen in a snap. I have to put mind to it. I actually have to think about what to say. Crazy concept.
Did I think that putting thoughts onto paper (well, clicks on a keyboard) was something I could just pull out of my sleeve like a loose string? As my life became increasingly complicated with life decisions and different hobbies colliding with one another, I found it harder and harder to find the time to formulated complete thoughts, let alone complete sentences. One day I'd have to be singing while the next day I'd have to be studying for a literature test plus studying lines for a theater performance coming up that weekend. Those three things just don't mix well. When one of them didn't go well, the others followed suit. I wanted terribly to be able to confide in someone, but I didn't think anyone would understand, since I had so many different hobbies intersecting and clashing. I could see the ambulances waiting for the car crash.
The beginning of the year all the way through May 19th, plus a little longer, seemed like an eternity to me. I was struggling to do dual-enrollment, plus theater, plus the last semester of my high school work, plus being an active member of family and seem like an interesting person, all at the same exact time. I had lots of food on my plate, way more than my mind could digest. I had breakdowns alone in the first few months. I didn't know the right answer for anything. I was wrong 99.9% of the time. Nothing ever went the right way, no matter how many u-turns I mad along the way. I was beginning to feel the pressures of growing up and making final life decisions. Whoa. I'm not ready for that.
I really am not. I thought that when I was 15 years old, I was ready to grow up. I had a "boyfriend," I was doing exactly what I wanted, I had "friends," I thought I was perfect. I didn't need anybody to tell me anything. If you were wrong in my opinion, you didn't matter to me. You were inked into the mental book I kept of people I never wanted to hear of again. If your name was brought up in conversations or I saw one of my good friends talking to you, I pictured myself bursting into flames because I was so mad. My eyes turning red and like a flash of lightning, you disappear into thin air. That's not very mature, it it? Not very "old person-ish," was it? I wasn't as grown up as I thought I was. Pretty obvious, right?
The next couple of years was an eye opener. I learned that I'm much smaller, but more capable than I thought I was. I can do a lot. I'm not as smart as I perceived my self to be, but I can be pretty darn witty when I want to be. Learning doesn't come from books quite necessarily, it can come from talks and experiences. I wanted to do so much with my life, but I was not using my time wisely. I was wasting it on thoughts that didn't matter and words that should be kept shut away in my vault of a mind. I needed to think of what really matter at the moment, which was college.
College. Ugh. I was excited about college - last year. My relationship with college right now is not what I thought it was going to be last year. Last year when I thought it was going to be easy to get accepted and I would be accepted to a place away from here to start a new chapter of my life. Last year when my ACT composite was 21 instead of 19 (not that an ACT score means anything at the end of the day). Last year when I could put off school work for days on end without a second thought. But starting next week, I'll have deadlines. I'll be graded and scored, constantly being picked at and told to "try my hardest," but I can't give anything more. My thoughts will be the only thing to help me survive. My thoughts might possibly be the death of me, but they might be the one thing that will save me at the end of the day. The one thing to keep me afloat in the sea of hundreds of fellow college freshmen trying to figure out the same things as I am. Right now, I'm praying to come out of college the same exact person that is typing this message out.
My thoughts are conflicted as of now. I've been told to be thankful and excited for at least being able to go and further my education. But how can I be when it's not my ideal? When the only thing in common with my "ultimate" plan was the "college" part? This is not how I thought my life was going to be like freshamn year of high school. I had this big plan, these thoughts of how I'd be living my freshman year of college. I thought I'd be an hour to two hours away, living on my own, at a different college. Instead, I am living at home, under my parents roof, at the local state college half an hour away. How disappointed I was. How disappointed I am.
I try and think of my college experience as something that will help me grow. Of something that will teach me how to be happy with what I'm given. But college is such an experience and how I'm going to be doing it, isn't going to be the way I thought I would. My thoughts were pushed over, my feelings were hurt in this process of college applications and deciding of majors. I wanted bigger. I wanted special. Dalton State College isn't special. It isn't big. It's a brick building off the highway. It's so simple. That's not how I think of my college experience, but I'll try and make it into something I'll enjoy. My thoughts on college of been the same ever since I was turned down at Kennesaw State University for being homeschooled and when I figured out UTC was too expensive, or when I had to settle for Dalton State if I wanted to attend college at all. Settling isn't fun. I think I'll like college. I think.
My clicks on this keyboard are getting more and more prolonged as I run out of steam. My train of thought is becoming slower and the embers of coal that are my feelings are getting snuffed out by doubt. I want badly to put my feelings into words, but it just isn't going to happen the way I want it. I guess things will be left kept inside my mind for only me to sort through. Or I'll talk to someone. Who knows. You might read this and reach out and try to talk to me, but all these words and letters might just be what they sound like, just clicks on my laptop's keyboard.
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