That fat, rotting toad

Been a while… Not quite feeling like playing catch-up. Really, who is going to read this anyway? I don’t need to relive all the details of the past couple of months to myself.

It’s been a rollercoaster of ups and downs lately. Exams have been written (and just passed… what a prize…), friends have left for grand adventures. And me? Well, my workplace closed and I am still without vocation. How are you?..

Never have I felt so worthless. I have had times when I feel depressed that my life has not turned out the way I wanted, but that’s been more of a helpless feeling. Worthlessness is something completely new, and quite bitter. It hurts, and seems to fester and rot your gut until you feel like a toad. I HATE IT.

Why can’t things be easier? Why couldn’t I have found my calling early in life, and held anticipated glee until that day when it comes true? Something attainable, like chef or doctor. Something that the world demands respect and admiration. Something that pays money and something that I can take pride in. I just want to find my place in this world. With every passing day, it seems that it’s drifting farther and farther away from me. Someone else will pick up my dream any day now, sealed tightly away in a corked bottle, and see it fulfilled. Me? I will be standing in the distance, crying silently so I don’t upset anyone. I will applaud and admire, and feel that toad inside me grow fatter with hollowness.

My friend Falen says that my colour is blue. While people’s colours tend to change with their emotions, I have always been blue. She says it’s because I hide behind masks, I don’t let people see the real me. I cry everytime I think about that. I am so lonely, it has begun to feel like a slow throbbing ache. I ENVY those who are happy. I haven’t felt truly happy in years. Grade six i believe. Back when I thought I could run the world over, with thousands of adventures to be trekked. With hundreds of friends to meet. With one love, just waiting to meet me.

I haven’t accomplished anything.

Grade seven I inverted into myself. The world was spinning too fast, and I got lost. The path was hidden.

Grade nine I returned, although slightly worse for the wear. The path of my childhood dreams stays barred. i just want back in.

How many times have I cried over the same thing? How many times have I felt like this in the past couple of years? How many times have I wanted to die of cancer or a brain tumor, just so I wouldn’t have to pretend away the rest of my life? How many times have I felt guilty for thinking like that, or sometimes wishing for it?

Life shouldn’t be this disappointing. Why do parents constantly lie to their children? "You can do whatever you want to do!". Lies. What I want to do, I will never be able to do. The want is there. The dream is there. The absolute, consuming desire is there. The talent is not. And that’s the only thing that counts.

"If you want it hard enough, it will happen". You have no idea how badly I want this. I want this. I WANT THIS.

It doesn’t matter. It won’t happen. The real world is much harsher. Dreams are filed away, and all that’s left is the fat, rotting toad.