A Project On Me

I’m not a perfect person- nobody is. Some people are close to perfect, I’m sure. Mostly, though, we’re just ordinary people with give-and-take lives. You give me a smile, I give one back. You give me money, I give you your Cheerios. You give me an insult, I ruin your social life.

And stuff like that.

Me, I’m below average. Way below average. I haven’t got any real talents. Some people have told me I’m good at writing- but my literary work has never been chosen for anything. Every competition that I’ve submitted essays for has rejected me- like perhaps everyone in my life. Yes, okay- I did write a LOT of speeches all through my 8th and 9th grades that were spoken by juniors, even seniors, in school assemblies. And yes, people appreciate my poetry quite often.

But what has it ever gotten me?

I wasn’t always like this. I used to be good at debating and I’ve even topped my class a couple of times. Believe it or not, I still get certificates for exemplary performance in the English Language. (You have permission to laugh.)

But really, if you asked me to write down anything special about me-I wouldn’t have anything to say. That’s probably why I won’t get into any good college. I couldn’t write a college application essay for a million dollars. (And of course, because I really don’t have much to offer any college.)

I am a good listener. A GREAT listener, in fact.

And if you let me, I’m also a great problem-solver. This is something people have always told me.

Except for my family. My family thinks I cause more problems than I solve- and just so.

So, I guess that is one half-good thing about me.

People have always told me I’d be a great psychologist, and that is exactly what I’m after- right after I fix my depressingly stupid train of thought.

I’m also good at biology? I don’t know for sure, really. I’ve just really felt a true connection with the subject. So even if I’m not good at it, it is something I love. I’ve always had an obsession with trees. Every single one of them is so unique and beautiful. I could say the same thing about humans- but I won’t. Humanity isn’t half as selfless as flora. Trees- you could look at them from any angle and actually appreciate them. You can’t really look at a tree, and thought “Ew, that branch right there is so ugly.”

I guess maybe, I just really like the fact that we, as humans, are able to appreciate plants just as they are- with all their differences.

Honestly though, I am a horrible person. Really, I am. I’m a horrible daughter, and a horrible person to live with. I tend to take people for granted- the few people who I know really love me. This is also probably why my parents have had too much of me. I’m a pain. I don’t make things better for anyone. I make things worse.

It isn’t that I don’t try to make things better. I do. But when you’re working on yourself, you need support. You need people telling you that you can do it. You need people recognizing your efforts. You need people to lay off you when you’ve had a bad day.

These things can be really hard to find sometimes.

People are never as understanding as you need them to be.

I’ve wondered about it a couple of times. Why don’t people understand things? Maybe it’s because I’m always having a bad day? That can’t be true, can it?

I don’t know.

All I know is- I’m currently useless and stupid and underestimated (even by myself). I know that I have something real inside of me- and I know that it’s going to take time to find out what it even is. But the fact is- I’m nowhere close to it.

All the time, I feel like life is moving too fast. I just want to stop time, holler, “Hey man hold up a minute, give me some time to figure this shit out.”

I get so tensed, subconsciously. I’m never thinking about anything particularly stressful, but every morning when I step off my bus and take a look at my school, my body reacts to what I’ve self-diagnosed as anxiety. My stomach starts turning, and I get nauseous, and my head starts spinning, and I even get indigestion if I have breakfast in the morning. I’ve realized that just the idea of school makes me so anxious, it’s unhealthy.

I really just want to pause time. I want to think. I want to fix this mess that I’ve made out of nothing.

I don’t think enough people appreciate effort. It’s never enough for people that somebody is actually trying to set things right. All people really care about is the end result. And when it comes to personality improvement- the end result expectation is different for all people. People will want to see you be nice, obedient, cheerful. Nobody really wants you to be happy, to be you.

People don’t see you trying. They won’t come up to you and say, “Hey thanks for apologizing, even though it wasn’t your fault.” No, people don’t do that. And it probably isn’t even your fault- they just have too much ego- but it gets you down anyway, doesn’t it, when they say the same old hurtful things every time?

The problem with the international human mindset is that they’re going to notice every mistake you make, and ignore every effort to fix things.

And that never helps anything.

The truth is, I’m a deeply unhappy person.

But 10 years later, at age 27, I want to be able to wake up- and breathe, something I haven’t been able to do for more than 3 years without feeling like there’s a 10 ton weight on my chest. And the fact that I even want to live up to 27, to me- is a great achievement, even if people will never understand how much effort it took to make that happen.

People might tell you that depression feels like drowning. For about 2 years, I was depressed and suicidal and I didn’t relate to drowning. I didn’t understand why people said that.

Now I do.

It feels like drowning, because you can’t breathe. You never get enough air anymore, and sometimes memories just leave you out of breath. You’re standing in an open meadow, trees all around, and it’s beautiful- but you still can’t breathe. Sometimes you’re just sitting in class, concentrating, and then you get one thought-one word- that makes you want to run out of the room and get some air. Air that’ll never be enough. There’s always something weighing you down, and you look around and everyone else is just carrying on as normal. It really is like you’re drowning, but everyone else is ignorant.

So one day, I want to wake up, and be able to breathe. Freely, openly, happily.

And that should be enough.

This is my project.

My project on me.


7 thoughts on “A Project On Me

  1. This 1 is so beautiful…. I dont meant to make it clichéd or anything…. But i SWEAR… UR writing gets more and more beautifulllerrrr with age… I still remember how u used to write student talks for juniors in assembly…. I really like dis article


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