‘I want to die. I really really want to die. Like really really really. I hate my life. I hate myself. I hate everything.’
This is what keeps going on in my head all the time. And you know what the worst part is? I’m not sure if it’s because I’m trying to seek sympathy subconsciously or the fact that I am actually, in fact, very depressed.
I can’t work. Every time I sit down to study I have a panic attack so big that it generally (always) ends in a crying fit.
I can’t concentrate. My mind keeps thinking of all the stuff I could do when I would finally be free from exams. I am making no progress. In fact, I am making the opposite of progress.
With just 15 days left for the biggest exam of my effing life, I can’t say I am mentally or emotionally or even academically ready to give it.
On top of it, my teacher and my parents keep reminding me every single day of all the ‘lives’ I could save were I to pass just this one test. Do I even want to save lives?? Hmm. Idk.
I hate competition. From the very beginning I was taught to always strive to be perfect and I know I am far away from it. But this ‘competition’ has brought to light just how far away from perfection I am and I absolutely hate it. I know I can’t be perfect BUT YOU BET AS HELL THAT I WANT TO.
*screams into a pillow because frustration and pent up anger*
I am not ok. I hate this. I hate giving exams. I hate knowing how much I suck.
I really don’t want to fail.
I really want to make people proud of me.
I really want to slap my father for socially conditioning me into thinking I could ever become a doctor.
I hate myself.
The previous week was kind of very depressingly monotonous. I was demotivated almost throughout the whole week, I didn’t feel good, I didn’t perform well in a test I had on Sunday and I was just sad. I kept comparing myself to everyone else; comparing my failures to their successes because I’m a bloody buffoon. Last week, basically, wasn’t nice.
Continue reading 11th October, 2016
I don’t want to talk about my first term result nor the existential crisis that came with it. However, I do want to talk about my future, because who’s ever satisfied with their present. Not this girl, obviously.
Continue reading 1st October, 2016
I was listening to a song called ‘The Winter of Our Youth’ by Bastille. It’s a pretty decent song and it’s, I think, about how the writer is not able to grow out of his childhood. It’s about how the writer keeps thinking about the past and can’t let go of it no matter how old he gets. He keeps ‘peddling back’ to it, alone and drunk. He wants to grow up, but his nostalgia keeps him stuck to his past, his days of youth. Continue reading 25th September, 2016
10th September, 2016
Since my last letter, I’ve been trying to keep my anger at bay and trying really hard to not think much about it. It worked for a few days. I felt calmer, more focused. But yesterday, it all came spiraling down. Continue reading Dear World,
4th September, 2016
I’ve always thought that sharing your emotional baggage with someone is a sin because others have their own baggage to carry and for me to add on more load on them wouldn’t be fair, would it? So, I’ve normally kept it all inside me, thinking I’m some noble warrior who needs to be knighted for bearing all that pain by myself.
Continue reading Dear World,