Void

Yes, this is going to be a post-A's reflection or whatever. Predictable, aren't I?

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. 

Lit everywhere

It is a curious phenomenon that I should relate to any lit text I happen to be studying, independent of the chosen text or time context. No matter what I study, it always seems so immediately relevant to me. It also reveals a great deal to me about my life which I have not previously considered. Leaving the study behind when I enter uni saddens me somewhat.

Pearl everywhere

One who, lacking some human quality essential to their nature, functions less as their own person but is instead more aptly a mirror that reflects another's hypocrisy, for the absence of any life that they can call uniquely theirs, and the bluntness of the reflection they project.

Hedonism

A-level year is not a good year to be indulging like this.

It's like I have no will of my own anymore.

I need

to stop running away from my problems

Insulation

Some would criticize a certain breed of gamers for not having much life experience or world exposure, but the ingame world has its own kind of enrichment to offer, I feel.

I think sometimes game-related things offer a different dimension than, say, reading a nice poem by itself. Cause it belongs to an immersive and interactive paradigm. And you have to respect that games have become something of an art form, and that when well-produced, they spawn new worlds of out of the audience. Just like the stories of old that have been retold and reinvented for countless generations. That's art.

18 and Life

That's a song by Skid Row. Not that it's a favorite, but I thought it was apt.

I'm scared of being 18. Being able to legally buy alcohol is not sufficient consolation for all the other responsibilities that come with A-levels and subsequent adulthood.

Life has been so so good since I started this relationship (ehh, why hide it?). I don't know how else I'm going to pull through this year. He's the best support I've ever had.

Nothing else to say, really. This blog is dead. I don't care about any of you or whether you're reading this. You probably don't give a crap about me either, and I don't care that you don't care.

I'm not sure why I'm here.