What do you do when you have gone to school thinking, like everyone else seems to think, that success would be coming your way? Why did I grow up believing, without real reason, that money and acquisition of my dreams would just fall neatly into my lap without any effort on my part? Where did that idea, that I am destined for greatness, even come from?
I finished my degree, in English (I know, I know, just another art mind complaining about not making money, I know.) it was December, and at that point I already kind of knew, I had no fucking clue what I wanted to actually do with my life. I'm not pretty enough, or vain enough, or willing to eat clean enough to be insta-famous. Nor am I really funny enough to be famous for getting you to laugh 'til you pee. But, there I was, in a graduating class full of dreamers, some doing what they should and getting a master's or teaching in elementary or having technical writing jobs lined up, and I still couldn't let go of the hope that somehow I am some hidden gem not yet plucked from the earth, cut, and shined.
So, that was it. Graduation was now behind me, I had one short story published into the Literary journal at school, and I never paid it much mind, giving it the usual "meh" appreciation I give the things I have done, and I got a job, joined the depressed/stressed working world into the worst, and most likely farthest from what I had hoped to be working in, field, continuing to feel more and more inadequate as I watched from behind my protected (from me or them?) LED screen the success, the travel, the marriage proposals, the jobs taken, and experiences gained by people I knew, people I felt were now better than me. And I felt ashamed of myself. I feel insufficient, unsuccessful, directionless, and, most painfully, average.