The sky's for the stars

I wish I could feel as I felt.

Looking over what I've written in the past depresses me.

I used to love so much.

...I sit for hours at a time,

mocked by the blinking cursor,

wishing my thoughts were typed out for me and

listening to leaves rustle, nature’s own way of crumpling paper.

Every time I set out to write, I am provoked,

pushed to surrender my every thought and feeling.

At the same time, the sensation scares

me and completes me.

I write to be challenged, and when I

thrive, I feel content...

This is the first thing I will attempt to write in quite a while. I don’t know why, but I’ve been hiding from my own writing, unable to face what I have to say. What do I have to say, that’s so important, so intimidating?

I don't know how to feel right now. All I know is that I'm running out of time and excuses and emotions and warmth. I've spent the day in basically the same spot. I've spent high school in basically the same spot. If anything, I've moved down and downer. It seems to be the only direction I know. With no one to blame myself, I do.

I’ve failed. I have failed in so many ways. I do not want to think about it. I do not want to count the disappointment. How would I even begin? The number of tears I’ve made my mother cry? The number of tears I’ve cried? There is no end. And yet, here I am, almost at the end of my high school career, with a smile plastered to my face, pretending life’s okay. Isn’t it?

I know it’s not the end of anything besides my Westmoor experience. But it’s not ending as I anticipated it would. I’m not who I thought I would be after four years of intense schooling. Maybe that is because it has not been nearly as meaningful as I would have hoped. My fault. Sincerely, my fault. I know I could’ve done so much more and better here at Westmoor, and now I’ve run out of time to prove myself. To myself. Because I know life’s not about impressing others. Praise is a fleeting incentive, after all. I’ve, thankfully, come to that realization: ....not until I stop trying to impress people will I truly find solace in the simplicity of life.

I look at my peers, at the top of the class, and I wonder where all their accomplishments will lead them. If driven by their own determination, I envy them, for they will go “far”.
I envy them for that fire that strengthens and motivates them. Because really, that is all it takes, not this cutthroat aggression that plagues others. If, on the other hand, all high school has been for people is a place to compete and outdo those around them, I can’t help but feel pity.

Maybe I’m being too optimistic, but life seems to me to mean more than one’s successes, if measured in dollars a year, cars in the driveway, people intimidated by you. I want to laugh and cry, struggle and learn, for the rest of my days. At the end of my life, I want to feel as if I could’ve done so much more but be content in knowing the things I have done because they will have been great, scattered, and many.