I am a girl with a big passion — was. That girl sort of died by now. Thanks to the childhood trauma that’s been buried deep down and someday just decided to fuck things up because they thought that “it’ll be fun”. So that’s basically what she did in the past couple of years. Fucking things up.
When I was younger and saner, I used to have this silly dream of becoming this “great person”. I was so obsessed with becoming the great, the almighty, the amazing, the spectacular version of myself because I felt like I always needed to be just that. One day I found one of the entries in my journal and I wrote something like, I want to be so great that when I die, my name won’t. Which is so fucking annoying and pretentious if you really think about it. I mean, who the fuck are you? Michelle Obama?
I think the reason why I was so obsessed with becoming a great person is so that my voice is heard and my existence is seen. I was not a popular kid and I never have been. I think I’ve always lived in the shadow and I was so sick of it — hence the obsession with being great. I thought if I was great, people would notice my existence — they would eventually see me. And to think of it now, to let people see you is just so fucking… scary.
I’m almost 22 now. A lot of things happened and I am not the girl that I was six, seven years ago. Most of me is cursing myself for wasting so much time being depressed and spending most of my time thinking about ending my meaningless life. The thought of growing up has been scaring me a lot and suddenly, I feel like being great is such an impossible thing to do.
Part of me is still holding on to that dream though, but most of me thinks I should just give up. I mean, what do I get from becoming great? the world will still be the same shithole I was living in 20 years ago. But that part of me that still holds on to the dream of being great is still having a nightmare of not becoming something great in the future. On some days, I find myself thinking, what if I don’t become great someday?
But as I’m writing this, two questions pop up in my head:
1. Is that what I really want?
2. Will I be happy by achieving it?
I’m starting to think that maybe I don’t actually want to be great, I just want to prove people wrong. Which is absurd, actually. Why do we as a society always have the urge and tendency to prove people wrong? What is this weird need that we are obsessed with all this time? We don’t always have to prove anyone anything because we don’t actually owe them anything, now do we?
It is just so weird that a lot of people think that we should work hard and try hard to prove to people that they’ve been thinking wrong about us, like, who the fuck cares? The world will still be the same place with some sick and twisted people in it. The world will still go on if you become a failure because that is just how it works. You may think that it’s cruel and unfair because it is. Life is indeed cruel and unfair. It doesn’t give a single shit about you or whatever the fuck is happening in your fucking life. It will go on and on and on and on until it has to stop.
So I guess what I’m trying to say to myself is that you are not great. And that’s fine. Because being great doesn’t matter. What matters is that you’ve tried, and you keep trying even though you know damn well that it’s fucking hard and it’s fucking exhausting and I think that is what counts. That is what actually matters.
