Do you know what happens when the one thing you love, the one thing you hope to excel in is ripped away from you? Somewhere, I read of how false hopes, when torn away from one, can “drain one of their lifeblood”. My hopes weren’t false and yet my life has been drained.
I have shed more tears over the past one month over this one thing than I ever have over any other incident in my entire life. When I first learnt that I would not get the chance to do what I passionately love, to immerse myself in the one thing I care about and want to study, that I want to climb heights in, it was… terrible. The agony and the anguish burned me day and night because I am a person who does not do things by halves. When I love something, I pour my heart, offer my soul and devote my spirit to it. And what I need like air is an environment that fosters my passion- where there are people who will not do things by halves, like me; who will understand and accompany me on my journey into knowing the subject better; who appreciate it and love it as much as me. It felt like someone had died- that my beloved had been torn away from me, because nothing else matters- nothing other than English. I live it, I breathe it, my heart beats for it. And I’m not even exaggerating. It’s just the kind of person I am.
And now that I’ve lost it… well.
It is not only the percentage of time or talk or work devoted to it that matters to me- it’s also the degree. The degree is the primary thing- I tend to associate with people who love one or two things deeply- not those who love a lot of things and don’t go deep into anything. (They annoy me. A lot. Fickleness is a quality I deeply dislike.) And in addition to this I’ve now developed a total aversion to socialising. Like I recently said on twitter, it involves pointless chatter about all sorts of rubbish I’m not the least bit interested in. And it’s got to the point that I refuse to go to school because I know everyone will talk about everything except the one thing I want to talk about. It’s trivial, annoying and grieves me more than ever.
And I’m stuck in a complete Catch-22 – there’s absolutely nothing I can do. I can’t go to any other school now- I can’t put myself through the whole process all over again; I’m so, so tired. I can’t shift cities. I don’t want to go to a tutor- if there’s one thing I loathe it’s learning a subject with another’s help.
I’m so tired. So tired of all this shit my parents put me through. Why am I the one who has to be responsible for everything? They’re my parents- don’t they have a responsibility to get off their asses and actually help me out once in a while? Why can’t they make up their damn minds? Why do they get my hopes up and then dash them back down and then do the process all over again? And then they snivel and apologise- what good will apologies do?! My life’s wrecked already because of your shit and your sad little “Sorry”s ain’t gonna cut it hon!
I should’ve left. I should’ve been bold, I should’ve told them- but what did I know? They’re my parents, I thought they knew what they were doing. And anyway they’d rap me over the knuckles then telling me not to “be smart.” Well someone’s got to be the intelligent member of the family.
So now I grovel in the dust nursing a broken heart and broken spirits. My tears turn the dust into mud, but tears unfortunately can’t change the present as effectively.