Shadow of the Luna
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This entry lacks stylistic value.
I wrote this while crying and listening to this song on repeat.
Well. Yeah. I... I think I've hinted that I'm pretty down. And by pretty down I mean in a really ******** dark place. Did I mention I'm not good with darkness? It has mosquitoes and crawling cockroaches and you never know what's there. I don't want that. I like spiders and mosquitoes and cockroaches. What if I accidentally step on them? I don't like that. That lack of certitude. I don't like stuff that change. I don't like insecurity. I don't like not being able to control myself. I've never walked so far into the darkness. maybe it's the first real stroll I've had here. I don't know. I'm lost and scared and don't like it. I... I don't like it.
By the time I realised it I had stepped on the lip of the pitch dark pit. On the pit of despair. Then I ran. I ran away as much as I could. I tried to take refuge. I tried to make it stop. I tried to make my mind numb. I took refuge in the computer. It made me smile. I looked for anything remotely funny. It was ok as long as I could smile. It was ok as long as I could hide what the ******** was going on with me. It was ok as long as I could silently cry and still display my happy-go-lucky face to the world. It was ok. It didn't matter. It didn't matter regardless of the lies I said. Regardless of whatever was going on with me, I had to hide it. As long as I didn't become a burden to anyone, it was okay. It was okay, I was going to pull myself together just like I did last time. I lied, I lied with a huge grin on my face. I had never ******** up. Ever. Always turned the tables. But I hadn't lied so much either. I usually could talk to mom when s**t happened at school. When I needed to take a decision.
But this time I was so confused. And she was so damn set to one thing. I have gotten so used to pleasing her. I was so confused. So confused. I... I like many things. It's my personality like that. I tried evaluating s**t properly. I tried... But I was so caught up between my lack of smartness and reality. I was so caught up. I... I didn't have who to talk to. Everybody was either worried with their own, or too caught up in their ideas. And every one wanted something from me. I had to be nice. And smile. And nod. Maybe make a joke. Most likely make a joke. And reassure them. Reassure them I'm good. Reassure them I'll be okay. Not like they cared. Or asked.
I had to choose. What I wanted - biology. What mom wanted - Med School. I swore I wouldn't go there. I tried talking to her about that. But she insisted. I settled on a compromise. I didn't want to hurt her expectations or to break my promise. So I made a compromise: Vet School. Didn't have human anatomy and had "medicine" in it's name. It seemed like a great compromise. But, truth be told, I didn't want to go there. I didn't. But I decided to suck it up and make up a charade, maybe if I pretended long enough, I'll grow fond of it. I like animals after all. But it only grew. The darkness. The disappointment. The sadness. It only grew. And I tried running. Tried escaping this world. Spent hours on the computer. Felt so down. I needed a stone. I needed something to make sense. I needed something logical. I needed the world to at least try to make sense. And I found Chesterton's "Orthodoxy". I clung to it like it was my church away from church. I clung to every word of it like in it lied the resolution to my problems. I clung to every idea. It made so much sense. It calmed me down. I got more and more absorbed by his books. By each and every idea. By each and every chapter. By each and every character. By each and every metaphor or analogy. I had already neglected studying, so reading his books mattered less. I took advantage of any possible moment to turn on the computer. I made up so many lies to keep it on. I ran into that world. I ran until my brain got completely numb and all that confusion went away. At school I changed into my usual happy-go-lucky persona. But I took more and more shelter into Chesterton's books. They were more important than school. School reminded me that I had to study. School reminded me that while all of my classmates studied, I wasn't. So I read on my phone. My desk-mate studied. My friends studied. I didn't. I... I didn't. I couldn't bear it. The confusion. The remembering of the fact that I'm going to have to choose.
I passed the exam, though. I passed it. At Maths barely and thanks to a crash course dear Alex gave me a day before. But I passed. With low marks overall, but I passed. With lower marks than the lowest of my classmates. But I did. SO I had to smile and keep my head up. It was my duty to smile and keep my head up. I had to. I had no right to mope. I was at fault. I hadn't studied. I was s**t. I got higher marks than I should have.
I don't know how it's at you, but here, state schools are generally considered prestigious since they're free and private ones have been involved in bribery and pay-for-diploma scandals. And in general if you are a studious person and don't enter state faculty, it's considered you fail. So I failed. No matters what one or the other says, I failed. Sure, I entered a private faculty (a cheap one, mind you). But I still failed. No matter what they say. Even when they say I haven't failed, they still can't help to ask me whether I'll try again to get into a state university next summer.
You know, normally people would shrug this crap off. And I know I should too. Because, screw it, I'm gonna study Informatics, which is one of my favourite subjects. I'm gonna do what I was too much of a coward to do during the exam period. I didn't give the exam at Informatics Faculty because I was too afraid of Maths, and decided to bet on Biology. The Universe pointed me to where I wanted, showing me what breed of coward I am.
And I am. I'm not a strong person. And I admit I'm a coward. But this time I was too much. I... I can't really do anything. There are no life skills I possess. All I know is to study, and I'm not even too good at it. Sure, I can make up the illusion that I'm knowledgeable on many subjects, but that's a really to create illusion when engaged in conversations with people who know even less than you. Sure, I can clean, cook, sew, but those are normal skills. Nobody needs those. I'm of no use for the society. I'm of no use for my family. I'm of no use for my friends. I'm of no use in general. I can't do anything proper. I can't ever talk properly. I'm clumsy and I stutter. No wonder no one likes me. I try to smile because I know a frown makes those around me sad. I'm not even good at empathising. I have no idea how to act to cheer someone up. Maybe I care, but I just can't help anyone. Even myself. What use is my imagination if I don't finish any idea? What use is my involuntary humour if I can't cheer people up? What use is my heart filled with love if I cannot help anyone? What use am I if I can't do anything above average? I'm no good. I know I'm no good. I know I suck. I know I tried not to be a burden and ended up not only a burden but also misunderstood. My little charade... Only I knew where I wanted to truly go. Only I knew what I liked. But I didn't know that.
Now I can find little lights in that darkness I ran from. Little fireflies in the horrible darkness. But they're enough. I've made up my mind. I've made up a little plan for the future. A real one, this time. And one that would make me happy, not others. Because how can I make someone happy if I'm miserable? How can I help someone if I need help myself? How can I empathise when no one knows what lies into my soul? How can I be useful if I don't go out of this nightly darkness?
How can I lead a life if all I do is sleep.