Every time I write an essay I get a dehabilitating sense that I’m no god at anything. I am disappointing a person I respect, once more, and I cannot do anything to redeem it because I am inadequuate. That is how I am feeling. Why can’t I write this dumb essay?

Why can't I write this dumb essay? why why hwy why? I feel sad. I feel like crying.

stupid essay. You've a much to big a hold on me. I'm just gonna get you done. Because, really, it's not what matters. It's not it's not it's not it's not it's not.

Just get it done. Above all, just get it done.

My father lives in misery. He can say otherwise, but I see it everyday. He is weary of life. It seems like a joyless venture. To live, and just be happy, not be taxed by whatever worries, I don't see it him.

Have I adopted that view? I guess so. Just, it's hard to be passionate. It feels there's nothing there to be passionate about.

The way I perceive, from my father's life, is that life is work. And for what. retirement?

I see my sister, who alternatively lives with passion. It seems that way. She is inspired by what she sees, learns. That's who I want to be. To be able to connect with people.

I'm only seventeen. I can't be like this now. It's like I've given up already. I can't, I need to grow. I need to be inspired. I need to work towards something. I need a sense of accomplishment. I need to raise my grade in math and chem and english. Poo.

Stop sleeping. It's an addiction to sleeping that I have, that might be hampering me. Sleep is oblivion. Sleep is escape. There is no accomplishment in sleep. Only regret.

Do homework. Take the effort to learn. Have no shame.

therapy

Sometimes, I only feel real when talking with people, being with people. Thus, it's agonizing, because I'm not a good people person. I want to get to know some people, but I lack the courage to do so.

I think I'm letting too much of my self worth hanging on whether or not I get into USC. I feel useless. I feel like if I don't get in, I'll fall into that detestable cycle of apathy, never to get up. I'm afraid that I'll feel nothing, I'll never be anything.

This has to change. I have to adopt a can-do attitude. I have to adopt a passion for life, a passion for living. But how can I, when around me I see misery, the misery of my father and the worries of my mother?

I just want to experience joy, pure joy, untouched by any of the conditions of this world. I wish there could be a moment where I could just sit and be happy.

Do the work, Grace. It's worth it. If not to experience and learn more about the world, but as a first step toward change.

Sleep is not worth it. Sleep is oblivion. Be panicked, be desperate, and in that desperation, do.
Please live desperately, competitively, happily. Act.

therapy

Hello. I harbor resentments against my sister, who said some pretty mean things in a fit of childish rage. While I realize this remark may have been said when she was not in the right state of mind, these comments hit too close to the heart. This was an year ago, and yet, I still hurt. I realize I may have been repressing these feelings. Oh folly.

Right now, I wanna say, I hate you. I fucking hate you. You don't know how much it hurts. Even if you apologize, which you did, the words will always be there.

it's been a weight over my heart for a long time. I will always doubt myself because of you, doubt my own abilities, my own ability to be loved. Not because you're more successful than me at stuff, but because you, who loved me, said those words.

I know you love me, and I love you too. But just realize, how your tendency to make yourself into the Queen of England has pushed me into a corner where I wallow in self pity. Disgusting.

Am I projecting? possibly. Lord help me. I need to not care. I need to find my own bearings, an identity separate from that of you.