I made it. The end of the year. The end of another year in which I wait to finally be happy and the time never came. I watched a youtube video yesterday and the girl was asked ‘what would you tell yourself 5 years ago?’ and her response (as it always is) was ‘It gets better, just hold on for that moment’.
If I were to look back at myself at 16? Yes of course it’s a million times better (here I was feeling sorry for myself and I actually thought about it and yes, I am a gazillion times happier than I was at 16. I don’t think it’s possible to be less happy than I was at that time) BUT you’re still unhappy. Only this is worse. You’re bored. So so Bored. BORED.
I’m so bored, I’m learning a language this summer. Yeah. My mum tried to complement me and say how cool I am (lol) but she managed to slip the word geeky in there. We laughed because for a second, I objected- until I realised I’m studying during my summer holiday.
I find next to nothing interesting, I don’t know what to say to anybody and I feel so so alone. So alone. I’m 21 now, I was promised it wouldn’t be like this at 21. I was promised it would be so much better, I was promised that I’d find myself, and be happy with who I am, but now I feel even more self conscious than I ever did, and I never want to say anything in front of anyone in case I look stupid.
I feel like I’m moving backwards. Something needs to change. I genuinely considered quitting university today and going abroad. I realised I hate it. I hate university, I hate being poor and I hate my life. I’m not crying as I write this, don’t worry. Imagine me saying all this in a bored, irritated kind of way. I’m just bored.
University hasn’t been everything that was promised to me. For some reason, I never gathered the strength to leave my flat all year, so the only friends I have are the ones I live with (who had to be friends with me up to this point because I lived with them) and the people I drunkenly embarrass myself in front of at the LCR and then try not to make awkward eye contact the next day across the table in class. I joined societies but didn’t go, I spent hours cooped up in my room knitting and watching House. HOUSE. You know how old that show is? And sure, I could have left my room, but to do what? I don’t have fun. That’s the whole point. I don’t have fun, I don’t know how and I don’t think anyone wants to hang out with someone who doesn’t know how to enjoy themselves.
In fact, this year has probably been shittier for me than the previous 4 because I’ve had to be around people who actively dislike me. There are a few people who have made it very plain that they don’t like me, maybe I’m not cool enough, or interesting or I just irritate them, but they’ve made it obvious and I have taken a pretty big mental hit because of it. I am now even more insecure than I ever was, and I hate it. Luckily, I will probably be seeing a lot less of these people in the future- they’re people that I can’t wait to not be around any more- preferably never see them again if I can help it- avoid them at all costs.
Or maybe I’m crazy? Maybe I have friends and I’m over sensitive. I get invited out places. I have friends who want to see me, talk to me, spend time with me. So what’s the big deal? It just doesn’t feel that way. It feels like I’m an alien with a huge head and everyone is staring, and every time I ask what they’re staring at, they tell me I’m normal and there’s nothing wrong with me, BUT THEY STILL STARE!
Ugh, I wish I could figure this world out, I really do. I want to travel, to leave this country to find something, somewhere new where I don’t know anyone and just rebuild my life. But I can’t. Until I have a degree (safety net). I wish I had the courage to just go up to someone and talk to them like I used to. Why am I so afraid of people?
I don’t want to go back, I want to stay in London and have money and a good time. I don’t want to go back to Norwich. It already feels like a marginally more relaxed version of the hell that was boarding school with an almost identical small shitty fishbowl of a town to keep me cooped up in. I can’t stand it. I hate it. I can’t believe I will be there for another Three. Whole. Long. Years.