Thoughts

No matter how hard I try to see things here, I feel incomplete. I feel like how much effort I put into something, my works are like mud displayed in a glass window next to exquisite, pompous jewelry for everyone to laugh at.

It’s been a month and a half since I moved here in the university and my mind can’t exactly comprehend how surreal for a person like me to be here. I am like a person who dared to be in wilderness with nothing but her non-existent “guts”.

Being in this campus made me realize a lot of things, personally and intellectually. First, I realized how completely alone I am. How completely alone it is to frequently eat breakfast, lunch and dinner with no one. How completely alone it feels to see your roommates so close to each other and you’re the cock blocker. How completely alone it feels to miss your family in every single moment as you keep your tears from falling when they call you and say they miss you too with the same intensity as you have.

I do have “some” friends and bloc mates who talk to me, but I can put my finger in it that I do not belong with them. They’re like brightly multicolored little rays of sunshine that I positively can’t relate to. They form in groups and whenever there’s this guidance instruction class or activity (I don’t know what they call them), I feel like I’m being tossed outside the caste system. I miss my friends back in high school, call me stupid or whatever for not moving on, but I really do miss them. It would be such great exhilaration to walk on these grounds with them by my side.

Second, I can’t always be the best in here, even in my own craft, the craft I self-proclaimed sharpened in the past 15 years. I can’t believe that the “craft” I’ve been worked hard for so long, and trusted for so long, would fail me in here. I’ve always longed to shatter my professors’ or my peers’ sanity due to my random contemplation, yet my heart feels nothing but complete laceration and I wish I knew what could recuperate it.

I think my mind imposes tricks on me and I even wonder if I’m in the right track taking this course I study right now. It would be totally impractical, foolish and purely stupid to base my reaction on this course just because I failed few (I think, most) of my journal entries. Moreover, I feel like I’m the only person in the class who does not relate with whatever boring things the professor is saying.

Today, I still haven’t opened my journal entry to see what  grade my professor gave me. I feel terrified as if a monster might pop-out of the pages because of my monstrous score.

I know some people won’t necessarily get my point, but believing that you can do something excellent in something then suddenly fail isn’t actually encouraging. Well, what can I expect they say expecting hurts more than failing.

I believe I can still do better, and with the constructive criticism my professors provide aiming to get the best out of our heads, I can be something greater and I can aspire higher than what I can do right now. I.really.hope.so. I am still looking forward for my Rapunzel moment and say, “My life finally begins.”

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