Long story short, I feel like a little bit of a twat.
You can stop reading if you want, that’s pretty much the whole post without any metaphors and that. It really will be just a ramble on my life.
But, it really is true. The only tears I’ve cried recently have been selfish ones, even though they should have been ones of grief.
That’s why I feel like a twat.
My grandma just died (I’m writing a post on this at the moment, you’ll see it soon) so my family have enough shit to deal with on their own, but here I come with scathing words about them. Instead of feeling awful with them, and dying of grief – I’m not crying about death.
I’m just crying about myself. The tears that roll down my cheeks have no care in them, no love – just self-pity. Self-pity because I feel like I’m never going to be the person I want to be.
A selfish sort of sadness, a terrifying existence. Too scared to break the barriers in front of me, but selfish enough to tell people why I hate being behind them.
“Get off your ass and do something about it then Ana! Stop complaining and start doing something”
Hmm, sounds easy – doesn’t it? It sounds so deliciously simple but in reality it’s so sour. Courage is needed to be able to do something about anything, but I feel like I’ve sunken into the hole of fear, of self-pity – I don’t possess courage anymore. I used to be so hopeful about my future, I used to be so determined to do what I wanted to do and I wouldn’t let anyone get in my way.
Unfortunately, a lot of things have gotten in my way. So much so that they’ve pushed my face up to the glass window which overlooks the pathway to success. I see my friends walk down it smiling, so hopeful and excited by the future that they were able to choose for themselves.
To put this into context, I’m going to university next year. For a while I was completely set on doing English at university, which made my parents very happy. I’ll admit, I love English and I do think that I’d really enjoy studying it at university. But, what next? However much my mum wants me to be a researcher, I’ve never wanted to do anything like that. I tell her about my love for acting and she says “Well, you could be a researcher on a film, that’s a nice job!”. Maybe it is a nice job, but I couldn’t bear watching other people do what I’ve always loved to do. I’ll look up from my books to maybe see one of my friends in front of the camera. I’ll kick myself under the table as I think of all the times where I could have taken that opportunity.
I want to be an actress. For most of my life I’ve wanted to be an actress. I love being on stage, enjoy working with other people and get such a sense of self-fulfilment when I look down at an audience. I love writing, of course. I’m very passionate about it and I’ve really enjoyed working on this blog. It’s crazy how active my blog has been recently (thanks guys!) and I’m having a lot of fun doing it! However I also love to act, it’s really my dream to be up there under the hot stage/film lights performing something to the world.
One of my teachers said something to me before we broke up for the holidays. He said to me “It’s your life, you need to choose yourself what you want to do with it”. I wish it were that simple, I pray for it to be that simple. But in reality it’s a lot harder than it looks.
I want to do this acting degree (well, I think so) at the University of the Creative Arts, but my parents think that it’s a bad idea. They always tell me about the instability of the career, how you can’t guarantee a job after university and that I’m “good at English so I should do an English degree”.
I’m too scared to tell them otherwise. Breaking the glass window in front of me terrifies me, it really does. It is my life, but I really feel like I have no choice over anything in it. I feel so incredibly selfish for pushing my passion on my parents when they’re going through something really difficult. It makes me feel awful.
This isn’t about her, and I don’t want to go into loads of detail – but sometimes I look at my best friend and wonder what life would be like if I was allowed as much choice as she has. I know that she’s going to do something in her life, and it’s going to be something that she wants to do – and her parents don’t have any problems with that. I’m not jealous over it, it just makes me feel a little melancholy.
One day I hope I’ll be able to come up with enough courage to smash that window of shame. For now, I’m living in a state of perpetual fear of people’s reactions to what I want to do in the future.
My sole dream right now is to be able to “follow my dreams”.