November 26, 2017 in Journal 1

This weekend was fun. I went to Hounslow to play a couple of baseball games. I really love playing baseball. Maybe it’s nostalgia since I’ve played it since I was 4, but it’s such a fun game. Or, maybe, again, I just like doing things that I’m good at– because I am good at baseball.
God, it is so painfully boring writing a journal about the mundane things I do in a day. I guess it could be interesting to write about my everyday life if I had an interesting one outside of college or a social one or something, but I don’t, so it isn’t. sigh
I kind of just want to drop out of college, but I know– I KNOW– I will regret it later. I just want to be free, I guess. Free of responsibility for a bit? I don’t know. I don’t know what to do. I have so many interests pulling me in a million different directions and it’s a bit overwhelming. And, I feel like if I choose one or two interests– the way college makes you choose one or two interests– I’ll forget about the rest and the person I am– the person who is interested in a million things– will be gone.
In the sea of things I don’t like about myself, THAT is one thing I love about myself. I love how I could be so passionate about things and how that passion could drive me and motivate me day-to-day. I love that in my mind– swimming in negatives– remains the positive fact that I love certain things and I have a sense of passion and happiness in relation to those things. The only problem is, I feel like the place where I am now– in college, in a big city, in a shared flat, in my 20s, in a social environment– is not a place where/when I can easily engulf myself in my passions and my happiness. And, upon reading that last sentence back to myself, that sounds crazy. Most people think, “In college? In a city? In your 20s? That is the perfect– perhaps, ONLY– time you really can engulf yourself in your passions”. And, maybe they’re right and I’ve been wasting my time worrying about deadlines and assignments when I should be spending my college time learning about myself, but I can’t. Maybe college is different nowadays or maybe I’m different, but I don’t see it that way. Adults reminisce on their college experience, saying, “I wouldn’t change/miss it for the world”, but I would certainly change/miss mine.
I do not like college. I like the idea of college, but the reality is full of arbitrary rules, inanimate pressures, and financial obligations that make you feel like you’re trapped in a box. Maybe it’s because I don’t have parents to do all of the paperwork or pay for any costs, or that I don’t have friends or I don’t care to make any. I don’t know why my perspective on this is so different from the one I have heard a million times. But, that’s all I want to know. I want to know why I feel so alien ALL OF THE GODDAMN TIME.
I don’t mind being different, but I mind not knowing why I am so different. Why do I dislike people so absolutely? Why is my mind so stretched in a million different directions? Why can’t I accept good things about myself? Why do I feel so unable to figure out “who I am”? Like, even when it comes to simple things– like the weather or ice cream– I can’t decide if I like it or not. Do I like girls or guys or both or none? I DON’T KNOW. Why don’t labels stick to me? Is it because I care less about them sticking to me than others do? Is it a desire to be labelled that people become labelled? I just want answers, but these answers, I know, are so subjective and philosophical that one can argue they don’t exist. Even with my age, my education, and my upbringing, I still feel like such a babe in the woods. I feel like a blank canvas– or, at the very least, like all of what is on my canvas was written in pencil, so easily erasable, so easily rewritten.
I would like to believe that I have all the pieces to the puzzle that would make a perfect picture of who I am meant to be; but nature is messy and, with my luck, I’m missing a few pieces.

Last updated November 26, 2017