It’s time for me to finally say goodbye.

I’ve been on WordPress since 2006 and I’ve had this blog for quite some time as well. Everyone seems to have moved on, maybe to other blogging platforms (like me) or maybe to a life of minimal internet usage. I’ll always have fond memories of WordPress and all the people I met through here and CP (can’t forget CP!). Thank you.

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I randomly decided to check my blog today and saw it was my blog’s anniversary. It’s been 6 years since I first started this blog. 6 years! It’s so…strange to think about. I’m older now (duh). Taller. More mature. Not as happy… etc etc. Most of the people I became friends with here on WordPress are long gone, unfortunately. That’s life, I suppose.

I finished my first year of college on the 9th. It was an uneventful year. I made a total of like 3 friends LOL. Maybe next year will be better, but I’m not going to hold my breath. Academically, I did well, but my classes were uninteresting and made ~the sadness~ worse. REAL MADRID WON LA DECIMA ON THE 24TH. Real Madrid, the club of my life, won their long-awaited (12 years) 10th European Cup (more than any other club in Europe. They’re the greatest). Um, what else? I need a job (as usual). I’ll probably work at my old summer job again, as much as the idea makes me want to curl up into a ball and roll off a cliff. Retail is truly the worst.

I still get bouts of wanting to stop existing every now and then, but I’ve managed to keep ~the sadness~ at bay for a couple weeks now. I still have no idea what I want to do in life yay. I’m happy it’s summer, but it sucks living at home with a bunch of people again for 3 months after spending most of my time alone in college. I really like my privacy. Well, that’s pretty much all that’s going on with me right now. This post sucks and I apologize. Just thought it’d be nice to make a post on my blog’s anniversary.

I feel like college is draining my life force. By the looks of it, I’m on my way to a 5 year program to obtain both a bachelors and a masters degree in accounting. Accounting. When I was younger, I wanted to be an artist. My father would always laugh at the proclaimation like the silly little dream it was. I have no desire to be an artist now, ever since I discovered just because I could draw a bit better than classmates, it didn’t mean I was actually any good. It’s strange to think about it now; how much I used to draw. How much I loved it. Now all my creations are gathering dust in some binder I stuffed them in many years ago back home. Younger wannabe artist me would never have envisioned somewhat older me being an accountant. I almost want to laugh at the seeming hilarity of it.

The thought of crunching numbers for more years of my life than I want to count makes me want to…stop living. It’s extreme, I know. But I can’t help it. Why don’t I just pick something I like then? Wow, that thought never once crossed my mind. My brother came to visit me a couple weeks back. And as usual, any time any of my siblings are alone with me, there’s the never ending speech about college life and majors and careers. Join clubs, make lifelong friends, choose a major you like but one that’s practical and will make a lot of money, and get a boyfriend while you’re at it too. Easy, simple stuff really. My brother asked me if I was even liking college and I gave a somewhat noncommittal answer verging on “I fucking hate college” without actually saying it. He asked why I was even here if I wasn’t enjoying it. My brother, the college graduate, the engineer asked me why I was at college. I almost laughed in his face. He made it seem like, with this economy, with these two people I call my parents, with the loans I’ve already racked up, that I actually had a choice in that matter. Like I could even have the choice of dropping out or taking a year off.

My sister came to visit me this weekend. As usual, the college talk began. I have heard this talk so many times, I’m practically boiling every time my siblings or parents finish it. I’m at my limit. I know they care, but it’s too much. Anyone who isn’t from my country or a culture with similar values would never understand my culture. As the youngest, I essentially have no say in anything. I’m expected to bow to everyone older than me, expected to respect anyone older than me without expecting the same. It’s infuriating. Excruciating. I can’t speak my mind. They wouldn’t understand. I know I’m more “Americanized” than the rest of my family, more cognizant, and that is why it is so difficult for me to withstand this much longer.

I just really, really, really really do not want to be here right now. College, life, whatever. Somewhere deep in me, I attribute this feeling to something much darker, one that I don’t really want to think about. I tell myself to snap out of it. Pick myself up. Stop the pity party. If only it were that easy. Then I wonder if I’m just that lazy. I literally just want to do nothing for the rest of my life. Is it possible to be so lazy you’d want to stop existing?

So after browsing the luxuryaccomadationsblog for almost a lifetime, I exited the website with a very strange feeling. What is that strange feeling you ask? It’s guilt. Shame. Embarrassment. I feel guilty for wanting that lifestyle. The luxurious, opulent, carefree, no worries, sit-and-do-nothing lifestyle. The good life. If I’m feeling guilty looking at a bunch of pictures, I’m not exactly sure how I’d fare if I achieved the actual thing. There’s just so much pain and suffering in the world…too much for me to be lusting after such a way of living.

How would it feel to have so much money to buy a small island, and then some? To drop $50,000 on a piece of jewelry without so much as batting an eye? It’s all so strange. What would I even do with all that money? I’ve longed to be filthy rich for a long time, but I don’t think I could actually live such an extravagant life.

Who am I kidding? I so would.

Although, I would probably still feel somewhat guilty surrounded by high-end amenities and the brilliant blue of the Indian ocean, lounging in my chair drinking a rum Daiquiri, thinking nothing and doing nothing, an unfinished book lying on my stomach and a floppy hat shading my face from the hazy light of the sun setting while some starving orphaned child in the slums of Brazil scrambles to find shelter from the punishing rain of a severe thunderstorm. Only somewhat.

Who says I have to live an extravagant lifestyle anyway? My stay at Velaa Private Island can be a once in a while thing. Once in a while…

I fluctuate between vowing to be my very best and contemplating dropping out of college altogether. I promise to start attending my classes diligently and the next week I skip a majority of them. I look in the mirror and see a marginally attractive person; the same day I look again and find someone…unsightly. I scoff at those who say life has no meaning, yet I find myself fascinated at the idea of taking a pill to end everything instantly with no pain involved. I am a mass of contradictions. Would I be human if I wasn’t?

I’m tired. So tired. So very tired.

I’m tired of this place. I’m tired of feeling like an outsider. I’m tired of going through the motions. I’m tired of people saying that “it’s ok to not know what you want to do in life!!!11!” I’m tired of college. I’m tired of crying. I’m tired of my family. I’m tired of trying to meet my family’s expectations. I’m tired of my family not understanding. I’m tired of the college system. I’m tired of my classes. I’m tired of people. I’m tired of my never-ending pity party. I’m tired of being tired.

I’m not suicidal, by the way. Is that something a suicidal person would say? Hmm. I’m really not though. I’m just feeling like a very old person stuck in a young person’s body. A very old person who’s so…done with life. College is the best time of your life they say. Maybe I’m going about it all wrong. Sometimes I just want to spend all my time in my room. Other times, it’s almost stifling in here. I just want to get out of here, do my own thing. Where would I go? What would I take with me? How would I survive?

When I was younger, I truly believed I was destined for extraordinary things. I really thought I would have a huge impact in the world someday. Make a lot of money. Be famous for something worthwhile. Save a lot of lives. Discover a cure for something. Inspire hope in people. Now as I sit here in my ratty hoodie and sweatpants, I’m slowly coming to terms with the fact that I am not destined for great things. I don’t want to get married. I don’t want babies. I will more than likely end up alone with a dog for company. I like dogs. I’ve already started picking out names in my head for my future companion. 

Some days I’m a pathetic mess, breaking out in tears for no good reason at all, sitting in my darkened room, my face illuminated by my laptop screen, wondering how the fuck I’m going to make it another 3 years here, or life in general. Other days it’s like the sob fest and existential crisis the night before never happened. I’m too young to be feeling like this. Too young to be this tired.

To answer my own question from this post, it appears that I am indeed still the same secluded, pathetic, friendless person that I was in high school. But it’s only been 3 days so I shan’t give up hope already! Hey guys, I’m in college now. W00t. Classes started on Wednesday and it is now the weekend and also my school’s first football game of the season. And guess who’s going? NOT ME! *manic cackling turns into heaping sobbing* I know this feeling all too well. Is this the price I have to pay for choosing to stay in a private room? I’m placing the blame on my private room when in reality, it’s just me. I mean, I’ve met some cool people, most of which are upperclassmen (really nice upperclassmen, might I add…brings tears to my eyes *cry*). And that’s mostly due to me being part of the Christian club at my school. I haven’t made any friends in my classes. Like I said, it’s only been 3 days though, so I should stop being so cynical already (ha!). My hall is so quiet, which I suppose is a good thing and something I’m sure I’ll appreciate as the semester goes on. Staying in a private is nice, but it’s also really easy to stay inside of my bubble of one, being anti-social and all that jazz.

Whatever. Maybe I’ll go to the next home football game. I don’t really care for American Football, but I still think going to the game would be fun. Why am I not going to the game, you ask? Well…I don’t have anyone to go with and I’d really rather not go by myself. I guess I’ll just spend tonight making good use of the free movies my school offers or do some homework or something. (I know what you’re thinking: “what a loser!” amirite or amirite?)

Speaking of homework, have I mentioned that the US Higher Education System is just a tad absurd? $120 for an access code not including the book that’s needed for the class (which costs an arm and a leg but I found it online free yay me)? It’s amazing how all of my school expenses make my $20,000 scholarship look like chump change. I’d laugh at this nonsense if I wasn’t already crying at the pain of my back being weighed down heavily by thousands of student loans. Ah, such is life, no? What a time to be alive!