Change...real change.

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Change...real change.

Post by Allindur, the Lightfoot on Fri Jan 11, 2013 4:41 pm

It's not fully related to my depression topic, though I suspect it could have links.

Let's start at the begining. I was having a particularly interesting Embryology class, first class after our mini-vacation, and having an absurdly hard time concentrating, what lead me to think. I thought a lot, about many things, and, eventually, I ended up at the question that brought the whole problem: Why was I not happy?

Don't get me wrong, my depressing surge was gone, I was actually kind of joyful, but I could not say I was trully happy. Something was just off, so I started looking at my life. What I came to realise is that I was not happy because I was not in the place I was suposed to be. Bear with me for a moment.

I had thought for some time that my great love was Biology. It made sense, everything was so interesting, and I was so damn good at it. For sure that's the profession I should chase, right? The problem is, I wasn't really. I mean, sure, I like the classes, it's damn interesting, but I was never quite in love with any subject like my classmates. They just chased every oportunity, and happened to stumble upon the most exciting experiences, while I was just going through the course, without all that burning passion. Sure, I was good, but I realised it was simply because I am I goddamn fast learner, and I pay attention to class. That's all. On the other hand, my peers could be thrashed by most classes, but in that one class related to their area, they could beat me easily without even caring about the class. Because they studied it for FUN. I could never do that. Ever. Heck, the class I liked the most was geology, that is not even related to biology. What went wrong? I always loved Biology, didn't I? Only I didn't. That's when it hit me. I DIDN'T. I always found biology interesting, but never the MOST interesting subject. My thoughts that I was good at it started on 11th grade when I had an absolutely awesome teacher. I didn't like biology, I liked the teacher. I wasn't good at biology, I just had a brutally good teacher. So what did I like? Well, that's a harder question, and I've been trying to come up with the answer since tuesday. I remeber I spent most of my life wanting to do archaeology. I stopped because I could not stand anymore people saying that it was not like on Tomb Raider or Indiana Jones (I FUCKING KNOW THAT! I don't even like those games/movies!). Other option was theater. I did some acting from 9th to 12th grade, and, mind you, I was fucking good at it. Loved it too.

Bottom line, no matter what I should be doing, it's not what I'm doing now. I'm astray, drifiting. I needed a course correction, and fast, because Bio is the kind of thing you either love absolutely or are gonna suck absolutely at a professional level. So I decided to leave my course behind, get a job, study for a year to get by my SATs again and look for a new path through life. I realised I can't be afraid of my parent's reactions. This is my life and I have to, at some point, get a hold of it, and now is possibly the last time. That is, in part, the reason why I need to get a job, so they can't at least kick me out.

The problem is: while I am not afraid of my parents, I AM afraid for myself. What if I sink? What if everything goes wrong? What if I can never recover my grades, don't get into college again, fail hard at acting and can't find my dream job? What if I end up stuck at some dead end office job for the rest of my life? I'd sooner kill mylsef or become a wanderer, really. I'm scared to death, but I have to move on. I have to throw myself into the fray with all my being, or I'll back down, and if I give up now, I don't think I'll ever have the balls to do this thing again.

Allindur, the Lightfoot
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