The A levels were depressing before, during and after. What can I say?
Math was one of the first exams, and as I sat there holding my thin stack of paper to be handed up, it all seemed so pathetic. Here was 6 years of pain and hatred for a subject irrelevant to my life, just sitting there. In a small pile. The result of 3 hours no different from any mock test.
And then as the month went by it seemed less trivial and more wearisome. There was no triumph after any paper, only a growing sense of burden knowing what had passed and what was to come. If there was anything to celebrate, it was only that I'd never have to see these grey walls again, and I could finally be free to be grey somewhere else.
The liberation I felt as the last paper passed was short lived. I expected an uplifting freedom in finally being allowed to pursue the things I had anticipated over the past year. A whole to-do list once the big thing was over. Instead I find nothing but a void. Worse, I find only more anxiety over the future, restlessness even when trying to be productive, and guilt whenever I feel idle.
As of now I'm dealing with this sinking feeling by crocheting some cacti for my art teachers while watching Daria deal with the petty politics of a world that that undoubtedly caricatures mine.
Sometimes I think that I'm ultimately afraid that once the burden of school work is stripped from me, I'll discover that I really am just an escapist hobby artist who doesn't care as much for personal fulfillment as I think I do, and that deep down I'd really just like to live off my parents.
There is no artistic vision. I just complain about things and mock them.
Back to the cacti.
Sorry for being depressing.
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