It’s hard being an A student, right? I don’t necessarily feel that way. When everyone says how difficult it is to be on top and I don’t feel that way, it makes me feel as if I’m doing something wrong. It makes me wish that I could care enough to try and improve, but at the same time I do care and try to improve, which ends up making me go almost nowhere. I’ve got all these expectations stacked for me, but I just feel like I’m too awkward for them. I feel almost as if my lack of effort in the spotlight disappoints people.

I’m afraid to speak out at home. The confrontations always happen without warning, I have little time to prepare, and I stumble over my own argument despite knowing how to deliver my point in my head. I fear what lies past my home, but I can’t stand staying at times. I hate not being able to pick anything, whether it be how to convey a point or how to stop conveying one. Sick, twisted irony hurts, but I can’t help but use it to my advantage at all the wrong times. Whenever I do end up getting a leg up on someone, it always ends up with some feelings being hurt because of my tone or something else that’s irrelevant to the situation. People always seem to know when to convey feelings, but for some reason I do it at all the wrong times and end up wounding something. It would help if I understood why.

I’m always regretful over what I say because I know it would either be disregarded or misinterpreted. The circumlocution of my points don’t help because drawing direct connections afterwards don’t help. I think outside the box at all of the wrong moments.

People cast bigger shadows than they think they do. Even unintentionally, I find myself following a respected and admired example with a dying passion to overcome it. Yet no matter how much progress I make, it always seems like I fall short despite people saying I exceed it by a mile. Giving effort on something provides satisfaction, yet I give almost none and I wonder why, still not satisfied.

I’ll provide some imagery: imagine a scratch that you know isn’t major, but you can’t reach. The itch grows into a burning desire to satisfy it, but when you do reach over to scratch it, it doesn’t help at all. You could rake your skin down to the bone and it still won’t be quenched. That’s me accomplishing something: no matter how much I do it, it’s the reward of effort that satisfies. Completing it is no big deal, but knowing that I am drained afterwards makes things enjoyable. Doing things people find hard but I find easy just feels empty.

Being acknowledged for something doesn’t really feel whole if I didn’t really try as hard as I felt that I could have. I always thought about what might be missing, but now I realize that it’s relief. I’m not relieved from doing anything because I feel that I could have tried with a lot more of my effort. I feel that I have tons to give, but nowhere to give it.

Helmholtz from Brave New World, a novel by Aldous Huxley, accurately describes it. His life gets boring from being the top dog, and he wants something more that he is prevented from discovering. In my case, I’m perfectly capable of being able to pursue my ambitions, so I question why I don’t. That brings up interesting questions:

How can I be afraid of something that I so desperately desire? What is the point of equality if things happen to be easier for some? Why bother with truly trying if truly trying is something that you’ve never done? When will it ever be worthwhile to do things without full 100% effort and to not be satisfied?

When I see success, I want to make it up to that level. I either think that it’s too high and don’t try at all, or I try, beat it, and feel not as much satisfaction from actually completing a goal. I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t jealous of how the misfortuned are. Having to work at something tirelessly only for a little result sounds like perfect work for me. Sating a craving for accomplishment isn’t the same as just succeeding.

I have a feeling that when I’m older, eventually I’m going to look back on this and say “I should have done this”. Then again, in the present, I’m thinking “I don’t need to do this because it won’t bring me any satisfaction”. Call it an inferiority complex, but it’s the truth. No one did it to me. I did it to myself. Setting goals hardly seems worth it if nothing would make me relieved after completing them.

Out of everything, I just want a normal life that I can build from the ground up. Grand adventures, challenging situations, the real deal. It’s probably impossible considering everyone already took the world and did it themselves.

Being rich would be scary due to responsibilities that I’m afraid to fail in, and being poor prevents me from doing anything but struggling to get by. Middle class is the worst of both worlds.

Being meek means that I can’t speak what I want to, but being assertive only makes people not want to listen. Average tone doesn’t get my point across either way.

I feel that I’m running out of frontiers to be successful in. Everything that I was familiar with died out due to overcrowding, and everything new is too out-there to try.

It sucks that I don’t necessarily have someone around that understands. Most would simply just call it rambling of the moment, illness, some stupid reason that obviously wouldn’t be true. Isn’t everyone looking for satisfaction? So am I. Just because it’s grander than someone else’s doesn’t mean it’s instantly invalid.

But that’s life, I guess. Nothing good happens to those who whine about it.