nobody said it was easy

nobody said it would be this hard


Ive become les couch potato. Its Tuesday, and ive not attended school for five days, not because im sick, but because I don’t want to, plus my parents have absolutely no clue as to my whereabouts. One would think I would sit home and study, but no, I don’t do that either. Sure, an hour or two of inane Sat literature (which is hard, so very very very hard) but nothing substantial. I don’t pick up my phone anymore, don’t step out of the house, my hair lies in a tangled bunch, and im wearing my glasses instead of my 24/7 addiction to contacts. I move from one set of pajamas to another. Days are spent mindlessly staring at my college admission essay, which is well horrible. The question, on first glance, seems blissfully easy, but after going through the damn thing thoroughly, its not as straightforward as it seems.

‘Who are you?’

1st reaction- I don’t know. I mean, who really does? And what is the point of living if you DO know? Why bother, at the age of 17, to live through the other 60 odd years and go about your business when you know that in essence your all that you will ever be? I cant accept that im going to continue being the stubborn and eccentric little lost girl that I am for the rest of my life. It just wont happen, at least I hope it wont.

2nd reaction- (more serious, as deadline is nearly approaching) I appeal to friends and family. I ask people what they think of me, and all I get is ‘perpetually laughing, moody, random, pure entertainment and sometimes overly philosophical.’ One even went as far as calling me a ‘rebel’ probably the most generic term ever used. Jesus Christ. Not to mention, that I cant be laughing perpetually and still be moody. I then make a list of what components make up the madness that is me. Stupid things, like I was a vegetarian for three years, or how I have a tattoo, or how I practically worship Marx, or how I feel Dali could have changed the world just through his collective works.

But nothing fits, nothing comes together, there are no flash bulb moments, no surges of inspiration.

And to think, I want to be a writer for the rest of my life.

3rd Reaction- Fuck this im going for a marathon shower.

Writers block S-U-C-K-S.