sometimes, i think i was supposed to be more successful. i have a bachelor’s degree, (in arts, media and technology) plenty of friends, (scattered about the continent and some now around the world) a home, (that i cannot pay for on my own) a job, (that pays me peanuts) and i am getting another degree (that i also cannot pay for entirely on my own).
it is a useless degree. i cannot be there for people who might benefit from a shoulder to cry on or someone who can take the time to cook them dinner—maybe my friends, who i love and cherish, don’t know i care because i can very rarely put it into words for them. i drown in classes and work and solitary hobbies; i have five courses i am taking this term and the workload threatens to overwhelm me, but this time, i’m not sure if i can actually keep ahead.
my mother hates me. my father hates me. they don’t know that they hate me, because they don’t know me and i cannot allow them that privilege because they will hurt me with it. i am too afraid to open up to them about it and i don’t think i ever will, and i have to be okay with it even as i sit shell-shocked after every phone call with them at how cruel they can be. i have to depend on them for help, so i stay in contact regardless.
i am a very smart person in a small city with little opportunities for growth, so i put my dream of being an artist aside so i could do something safer. i am good at what i am learning, and i love and despise it at the same time. love it, because it comes like breathing; numbers and systems have always been the way that i’ve understood the world. despise it, because it feels like i’ve given up; like i no longer know how to fight for myself.
there isn’t too much of a point to all of this. i used to dream of being a doctor, an orthopedic surgeon to be specific; i wanted to help people in need and save them with my own two hands. i had stable hands. i still do. if i ever wanted to go down that road again, it would be ten times harder now than it was before i had given up on physics. my father told me, after i quit, that I wasn’t smart enough anyways.
maybe he was right. but sometimes, i think i was supposed to be more successful.