Ok, well, try to read what I randomly pour out of my heart right now as I am on the verge of stress eating, and that is never a good sign as my complexion gets deeply affected meaning I have to wear a paper bag for the rest of my life and now I’m rambling.
So, basically, at my age we now have to pick our GCSEs or SATs in USA, and we are getting put into sets which we will stay in for the rest of our school life until GCSEs and our sets are determined by a test we do, and solely on that test. So if you do badly, hey buddy, bad luck, you’re only gonna do double science instead of triple, and that means you won’t get into that sixth form that you wanted to and then your whole life goes to schiz and now I’m rambling again.
I know I don’t have problems compared to some other people and that’s why I feel so bad about being worried about a stupid test when there are thousands of people, thousands of children living in fear in countries overthrown by terrorist organizations and because I know that I have it so much better than other people, that I’ve got so many opportunities that I need to make sure that other people get these privileges too and it’s just really stressful, all this pressure I’m putting on myself.
Sometimes I get so frustrated I could punch someone, but then I think of how disappointed my parents would be and I just get so panicked and I just have to hold it in until I’m like an over pumped balloon about to pop and I just can’t.
I just feel like anything less than perfect isn’t good enough and I just want to be good enough. All my friends rely on me to be the person who’s always nice, who’s always willing to help and give a shoulder to cry on, and they definitely support me when I’m down, but I don’t know. Sometimes I just get scared they’re using me and don’t actually like me because of bad experience I had with people at my old school. To give you a brief summary: I had no real friends, boys would bully and throw things at me sometimes, namely cricket balls, I would climb a tree behind the classroom and read during break and lunch and I got frequently told by a person who we shall call ‘Polly’ that I was not popular enough to be seen with in public and that she hated me, and I had to take it as she was the only person that would talk to me, ever. Talk about toxic friendships, am I right?
Anyway, that’s why I have trust issues so yeppppp that’s always fun.
Ahh, that was good to get off my chest. I feel lighter now and the panic has dimmed to a dull flicker. This blogging thing really does work. I could never keep a diary. I felt too weird writing in a diary, like I was talking to ghosts or something.
Anyway, no fun update tonight as I had to say that, but I will leave you with a joke to lighten all our spirits.
What do you call a fat psychic?
A four-chin teller.
Ok, you’re lying if you say you’re not chuckling. Unless, of course, you are a fat psychic, in which case, I am very sorry.
Anyway,
Auf Wierdersehn!
Awkward Bookworm
