I never have, to be completely honest. It’s always been about following the path that was prepared for me and don’t get me wrong, I’m very grateful for that. I’m so lucky and fortunate to have been raised by a loving family, to have a chance to go to a good school and have food on the table every day. I know that. But – there’s always a “but”, you see – I wish I knew where I was headed.
I’m finishing high school. Next year is my final year and the thing that scares me so much is that I have no idea what to do. I have so much motivation but I can’t get a grasp of anything I could invest it into. There’s nothing I’m particularly good at, nothing I could see myself doing – and hell, even if I do figure out what school to go to, there’s still a huge chance I won’t have enough money to do that. My family is not poor, but there are months when we barely get by. We’ve got the internet and a house and a car but with every single bill, I can see my parents’ wrinkles getting deeper.
I wish I could help them, get a diploma and a good job and be able to finally give them what they deserve.
Everybody always tells me that I’ve got a whole life in front of me, but sometimes it’s hard to see that. It’s hard to believe in a happy future when it’s so… terrifying. There are so many things I don’t know how to deal with. People all around me are facing battles and I can’t do anything to help them. Even when I do, it makes no difference. And I know it’s not about me, but I feel like falling apart sometimes. I want them to be happy. I want them to know they deserve that. And all I do is fail them, over and over again, ruin everything good in my life and keep pushing until they break and give up on me.
I don’t want to be like this. There was a time when I was thinking too much, overthinking every single step in my life. Now, I can barely bring myself to think about what’s gonna happen tomorrow. It’s all in there, and I know I should be doing something. I can’t motivate myself, I can’t get out of this misery. I can’t talk about my problems to anyone and I keep sucking up others’ stories as if I was feeding off of them. Maybe it’s true. Maybe it gives me a reason to shut my eyes and pretend my life doesn’t exist.
When I lay in bed, knowing there are things I should be doing – be it studying, working, helping my sick mum or caring about my friends – I just keep laying there. And the hate that I feel towards myself just keeps growing until I can’t stand the feel of my own skin, can’t stand the thoughts in my head, the guilt and the regrets. And I know I could help them – I know there has to be something I could do, but I can’t figure out what it is.
I feel stuck. And I feel miserable about putting this all out there. Are you reading this? Is someone actually there? I hope so. But even if not, it doesn’t matter. The person I need to read it has already done so.
Thank you. For everything. Keep fighting.