Summertime Sadness

NOT.

I love the summertime. Maybe it’s the lack of stress and the ability for me to do whatever the fuck I want in these 3 months, or because I don’t have to deal with the annoying kids at my school, or it’s the weather and how it’s always so pretty outside, but the result is that for the past couple of years summer has been the only time when I’m not suicidally depressed. Seriously. Stress, anxiety, and depression build up inside me during the 9 months of the school year, and over the summer, I slowly get better. But by the time I’m 87-ish percent healed, school restarts. Every time. So then I start school in a decent mood, but every year this mood at the start of the school year also gets just a little bit worse, because 3 months is obviously not enough for me to become thoroughly fine again, and my sadness just builds up off of that remainder 13% of sad me.

Also, if you’ve made it thus far, you are a genius. I post this sort of stuff on an anonymous blog mainly because people think I’m fucking insane when I say this to them, and I don’t blame them for it – I’m not very descriptive. And, just for the record, I’m not complaining – I know that I’m extremely privileged, especially compared to, say, the starving kids in rural Ghana.

But anyway, I don’t know if it’s just me, but every single summer I have this dread in the back of my head of school restarting. It’s like an hourglass or a “progress bar” of good times, if you will – you hope to manipulate gravity so that the sand moves more slowly, or even reverses itself, or you hope to somehow hack the computer so that the progress bar stays at 10% instead of inching toward 99%.

And I don’t know about you, but usually after, say, 2-3 weeks of the summer, my life starts going back into a routine. And then the days pass as quickly as the pages in a good novel.

And then school starts back up again.

But, this time, I swear, it’s going to be different…

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Commitment Issues


Have you ever had the problem where you have a thousand good ideas but end up starting maybe a hundred and finishing like zero? Well, at least I do.

It’s not because the ideas are boring or difficult or anything like that, but just that half the time I think of a good theme or title…and then get writer’s block when I really sit down to do it. And these commitment issues also apply to other things like school and investment, but just on a lesser scale, probably because these activities are a lot less creativity-intensive.

And, of course, this also applies to people.

I promise myself I’ll spend more time around someone or get to know him/her better, but I almost never follow through on the promise I make myself, not because I don’t want to commence meaningful relationships with good people, but because as soon as I sit/stand next to that said person, I start questioning every word I say and plan for a good “exit strategy.” And somehow I don’t do this consciously…the result, anyway, is my nodding to everything the other party says and then the other party giving me an odd look or asking me if I’m okay because I’m acting so. fucking. weird. (I know it’s weirdly, but bear with me – this is a blog post, not an article or anything that requires perfect grammar).

Also, it’s probably too early for me to even consider this, but the idea of marriage scares me shitless. Actually. Somehow, I can’t stand the idea of “tying the knot” – I just am too scared of ending up with the wrong guy, and getting married simply complicates the process of separation, which, according to the statistics, is quite inevitable…(more than half of American couples eventually get divorced, and out of the ones who don’t get divorced, a decent portion probably aren’t very happy either.). Furthermore, I don’t trust my own ability to trust someone, but that is another topic for another day.

And this even permeates my career choices. The biggest reason I want to go into business is because I can be a businessperson in any field from tech to finance to real estate.

These are just a few examples of situations where I can’t commit to anything. Some others may include the fact that I’m too scared to adopt a pet – I’m scared of being a horrible pet owner and being stuck with inadvertently torturing the poor pet through neglect when I really mean to take care of it. I guess the same goes for any prospects for future children.

But, at any rate, I guess I’m just posting because I don’t know how else to try to resolve this issue – it’s starting to impact every single decision in my life, and it can sometimes make me so indecisive that even the tiniest choices, such as whether to write on topic number 1 or 2 on an essay test, give me a panic attack. But my anxiety is also another topic for another day.

i want to be 2 forever.

There. I said it.

All I want for life is just an endless supply of hugs, stuffed animals, food, & sleep. No kidding. I’ll be extremely satisfied if I have that, and, maybe to boot, not being judged for being honest & emotional. I don’t even want anything else at this point – studying, work, other people’s good opinions…fuck those pretentious fakes anyways.

I don’t even know what’s wrong with me – every teen I know wants to grow up, but I don’t.

I don’t want more freedom, if it means more responsibility.

I don’t want to be taken seriously, if it means having to be mature.

And it’s not because I get bad grades or am a failure currently. Somehow I have a cumulative 4.1 GPA, got a 5 (“extremely well qualified,” highest possible score) on my AP Euro exam (the only AP exam I’ve ever taken, b/c my school only lets us take 1 AP course in our sophomore year), & am just generally “smart,” “hard-working” & a “very successful student,” at least per my teachers. But I wonder how much I really like studying & that sort of shit when the only time I’m not extremely depressed is during the summer when I don’t have to study…

And I don’t want to “take the world by storm”…all I want is to make enough money to retire early & live out the rest of my life in a little cottage in Provence, southern France (if you haven’t been there, it’s breathtakingly beautiful) with a hundred stuffed animals & maybe a hamster or two. I don’t want to get married, and I despise the idea of having kids even more. I don’t even know what the fuck is wrong with me by this point. I guess I just hate commitment – I can’t commit to a single guy, I can’t commit to a single pet (I like hamsters because they have like 1-2 year lifespans), and I can’t commit to a single job (which is why I’m currently freelancing & will probably go into business, as you can be a business leader in basically any field from real estate to finance to tech to cosmetics), just like I can’t commit to anything else in my life.

Fiverr

So…I know 4 languages, am learning another 2, can do some basic programming in HTML/CSS, Python & JavaScript, have gotten national recognition for my language skills & knowledge in economics, and have a cumulative 4.1 GPA, but since I’m 14 nobody would hire me. Yeah. FML.

But anyway, recently I’ve found this amazing website courtesy to a YouTuber’s video (Safiya Nygaard’s vid on some YT Ad Haul or something) where I can really put my skills to use & make money. As the title suggests, it’s called Fiverr. On this, I will do some virtual assistant work (I do the busywork so you don’t have to!), translations between Simplified/Traditional Chinese, English, French, and Spanish, and editing/revision work, all starting at the price of $5 a gig.

And if you aren’t satisfied, I promise I will edit my work & make it so that you will be more than satisfied. Or your money back. (But I still don’t know how to refund money on Fiverr, since I just discovered the site last night. Oh well. I’ll try to figure that out ASAP.)

And, of course, for more information, please visit my website at https://www.fiverr.com/sktranslates.

Ghost

I scream your name in my nightmares.
I thought it was over.
So why is your ghost here knocking at the door?

You taught me to enjoy the now,
‘cause a forever is only made of ever so many of them.

Yes, you told me to forget forever,
‘cause we always knew we weren’t going to last.
You told me that neither a tsunami’s revolting aftermath nor its ephemerality can make its enormous, dangerous waves any less beautiful.

You gave me courage,
Yes, courage,
Or at least enough of it for me to look Past in the eye and tell it to go fuck itself,
Enough of it for me to look Future in the eye and say “yes, I’m ready for whatever you bring.”
Enough of it for me to look Present in the eye and say “I love you,”
Enough of it for me to embrace change.

Yes, you let me enjoy change,
with your beautiful smiling eyes, the color of which I never quite put my finger on, probably because they themselves were always changing.
How ironic that I don’t enjoy this status change to single.

Even thinking of you makes me dizzy, lightheaded, nauseous.
What has happened to my former sane self?

Crazy at a 2 a.m. on a Saturday, I can’t help wondering if you regret things too;
I can’t help thinking, hoping even, that you may be scribbling the same tropes in your house, maybe on a Tuesday night after you’re tired from that stupid-ass job you’d always hated even more than eating the cookie parts of an Oreo.

But no, I’m sure you’ve moved on.
Your ghost told me that you’re doing just fine;
Yes, he did,
in that same sexy motherfucking voice as the one I’ll always remember in that moment you told me everything was going to turn out just fine.

But maybe that’s just a surface impression.
‘Cause I’ve moved on too, on the surface at least.

Quit thinking. Shut your eyes. Sleep, I tell myself, but to no avail.
No, I don’t obey my own orders, no, not when your ghost is ready to burst in through the door with a laugh and a “You won’t believe what happened today.”

I never showed you the darkest parts of me,
No, not the most horrendous impulses,
No, never the horrific thoughts from the dried blood on the stitches in my heart.

But still I think you knew,
Yeah, you did.

And you weaned me from them,
Somehow,
You did it, with your perfect smile,
Yes, Demon, you did have the smile of a fucking Angel.

But it’s fine.
Yeah, it’s alright.
I’m only bleeding.

Which Way Is Right, Which Way Is Wrong?

The road to success has been described by various successful people in varying lights, various authors to “bibles to a successful life” claim to know the exact way to success, and parents, relatives, and old people alike often offer (quite unsolicited) advice on this matter. My question: which of these people is/are right, and when?

I know that the road to success varies for everyone, as does the definition of the word itself, but the people who write these various “success bibles” probably don’t realize this fact. Or maybe they do, and prefer to not acknowledge it.

I’m not saying that I don’t read success bibles: in fact, I’ve read multiple biographies of successful people (Steve Jobs, Elon Musk, Warren Buffett) and want to read more, mostly just for the hell of it but also to try to figure my own life out – not that I want to model mine after theirs, but just because I want to get some “inspo,” if you get my drift.

But my chief complaint is that these success stories oftentimes contradict each other (e.g. Buffett: “the 1st rule to making money is to not lose money; the 2nd rule is to never forget the 1st rule.” vs. Don Keough (former President of Coca-Cola) in The 10 Commandments of Business Failure: “If you quit taking risks, you will fail.”). I know that what works for someone may not work for someone else, but for a confused 14-year-old who still doesn’t know what the fuck I’m going to do with my life ((starving) artist? (starving) writer? (hopefully not starving) businessperson/financier?), that is pretty hard to digest.

However, the bright side is that at least I get to decide my own path – I get some freedom to write my own story, essentially, whether it be of success or failure.

BUT here’s another complaint: notwithstanding the fact that biographers oftentimes exaggerate certain aspects of their biographees, all of these supposedly successful people already had some marking/special characteristics by the time they’re 14, and I’ve done NOTHING special…it really makes me doubt whether I’ll ever do anything special with my life…

END OF RANT

I’ve Got 35 Questions Why

  1. Why don’t I have a dog?
  2. Why would anyone not like art?
  3. Why is Twitter so. fucking. addicting?
  4. Why does milk taste so horrible?
  5. Why are some people considered cute, others sexy, and others plain/ugly?
  6. Why is the legal age for adulthood 21? (I would like to know just what the fuck was going on in those legislators’ minds when they decided 21, not 24, not 27, not 18, not 16, not 13, was the magical age where everyone matures into a full-fledged adult.)
  7. Why do school lunches taste so bad?
  8. Why are all furry animals so adorable?
  9. Why are some people perceived as smarter than average?
  10. Why are people so inhibited all the time?
  11. Why are fantasy books so popular among so many people?
  12. Why would anyone not like cheese baked spinach?
  13. Why exactly do some people get so. fucking. filthy. rich? (I know every single billionaire probably has some different answer to this question, & I’ve read up a bunch on quite a few of these people, but still…)
  14. Why do people gossip about each other so much?
  15. Why are there people who don’t like Hawaiian pizza?
  16. Why is the world always in a natural state of competition?
  17. Why do people’s lives get so centered around worrying?
  18. Why are most country’s currencies made out of paper/cloth fiber instead of something more durable, like the Australian plastic notes?
  19. Why are so many people so satisfied with mediocrity?
  20. Why does nobody seem to understand me?
  21. Why does my social situation seem to get worse the more that I try to make it better?
  22. Why are some people just naturally charming and socially competent?
  23. Why do so many people use and love snapchat so much?
  24. Why is the legal working age 16? (Again, I would like to know just what the fuck was going on in those legislators’ minds…)
  25. Why do I stress so much over the tiniest details of life?
  26. Why can’t I be like the people I admire?
  27. Why is life so short, yet so long at the same time?
  28. Why do most people never live life to its fullest, then regret everything when they’re 89 and toothless and the lights are about to be turned out?
  29. Why have I always been an outcast to society?
  30. Why do so many people’s lives seem so great on the outside while they’re falling apart on the inside?
  31. Why do we all get laughed at when we try to be our real imperfect selves instead of putting on thick masks of fake perfection, like society forces us to do?
  32. Why are everyone’s lives the exact same, except for maybe some tiny minutiae of names and specific events?
  33. Why do we all have to be alive then, because lives exactly the same to those of our own have already been lived so many times over and are still being lived by everyone, everywhere around us?
  34. Why is life like this?
  35. Why? Just why the fuck…?