Sometimes you feel lonely. Sometimes things don't make sense. And you're too old to be so confused. Because if you haven't figure it out now, when will you ever?

And sometimes, you think that life was hard when you were a kid. Not the 6 year old crayon-drawing kid, the kid that drives with the windows down and the music blaring.

That kind of kid.

Your not that kind of kid anymore. So, where the hell is your excuse?

Locked up in some transcript with an embarrassing GPA and in an diary that's been going on for 6 years. This is my excuse. That my true passion has always been writing. But, I've always wanted to be smart and I thought you could only be smart when you could always solve for X and ace every proof.

Every other intelligence was an excuse for intelligence. The mathematics and the sciences, those were what mattered. Those were what made me dumb, so I had to excel in those to prove to the world that I wasn't the slow kid in Mrs. Boetcher's class.

And now, I'm at work. 21 and working for 7 dollars an hour at a University that I fucking hate.

When will I ever be who I want to be? What does it take? What will it take?

I feel worthless and useless. And sometimes, I want to go to sleep and never wake up. And that's not as morbid as that sounds. Just peaceful sleep, so I don't have to feel like a failure everyday.

I'm just tired of being mediocre. When there's a flicker of hope that I might be great, somehow that fire just burns right out. And I'm left in the darkness with nothing but me and that faint light burned into the darkness of my eyelids.

And, I'm just typing because I can't confide in anyone anymore. Because no one is safe. Or trustworthy. Everyone has their own lives. Just take care of your own.

And I'm old. I feel old. But, I feel like I've accomplished nothing.

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