#TheStruggleIsReal
Or at least as real as I'm willing to bitch about.
Basically, it works like this:
You grow up learning to be limitless.
Every adult implores you to explore your passions,
and you grow up thinking that anything is possible.
You grow older,
and realize that you aren't an athlete,
or a history buff,
or whatever you suck at.
You keep growing up,
and you realize something:
You can't possibly be limitless.
The entire Earth is built around limits,
like Calculus.
You go along this line,
growing exponentially old,
but the limit exists.
And no matter how hard you push,
no matter how much value you pile onto yourself,
there's a point in life that you can't pass.
And then you keep growing up,
and you get funneled into mass tests where you're appraised as a commodity.
You score numbers on these tests and someone reads them,
feigning interest,
and you're told by this person what you're good at.
They tell you,
a child that they have never met,
what career you'll have,
which subjects you'll excel at,
etc.
But they never tell you what your passion will be,
and they never tell you who you'll idolize.
They won't tell you that you'll be a middle-class white boy that loves rap,
or a gay male that just wants to treat a woman to a nice night out.
They don't tell you that you'll change your mind on EVERYTHING.
That you'll grow up wanting to be a doctor,
then a lawyer,
then a doctor,
and an artist,
and actor,
and musician,
and psychologist,
and all of the above.
But you're forced to listen to them.
Because that's "life".
Or what people seem to think it is.
...................
Of course, that isn't life.
It's just what you're told it is.
Life is way, way beyond that.
But nobody will ever tell you that.
You have to actively seek out interests,
passions,
loves.
You have to force yourself to audition for a show,
to audition for drumline,
to sing,
to revel in something that you just might like,
even if it isn't recommended by the suits.
You have to be willing to recognize that the system is flawed,
that,
if you listen to the adults,
you lose.
You lose literally everything that you once believed in.
You lose that limitless belief.
You lose the idea of freedom,
the idea of choice.
You look up, finding yourself somewhere you don't recognize.
You lose the feeling of creation that you once had.
You go over to your childhood friend's house,
but the magic isn't there.
The backyard isn't a secret agent's hideout.
It's grass,
and dirt,
and test scores.
And your entire worth as a student is gauged by a 32,
and a 1960,
and a 4.0,
and a collection of classes.
And you stop, and finally, in the fucking depth of summer, realize something.
.................................
You look back at your life,
barely lived,
with no risks,
and no parties,
or mistakes.
You hate what you see,
but love your success.
And you come to terms with the idea that, no,
you aren't what your grades say.
You're so much more.
And you're told in college that you don't have to worry about being a test score,
or having to let go of things you love to fit in a class third tri.
But you don't believe that,
because that's how high school was supposed to be.
And you are so fucking terrified.
You're scared of leaving,
and being torn between passion and success,
like always,
and you're terrified of five-figure debt,
which is unavoidable.
.........................................
Going back to the "being more than your schooling".
You realize that, even though you took little risk,
nobody else did.
You were all collectively fucked by adults.
Because leaving no child behind just holds others back.
So you stop crying about the lack of parties,
and wild nights,
like your parents talked about.
You look back and love thirteen shows,
and ten years of music,
and learning to tap,
and singing,
and kissing,
and loving,
and, of course, being a sassy bitch.
Because this is still my blog, sluts.
But you stop crying and you start thinking.
About how you can fight this notion of selection,
of choosing this or that.
You realize that, and I apologize in advance for this,
your family's opinions literally mean jack shit.
Because maybe you aren't a doctor,
or a lawyer,
or whatever.
Maybe you don't know what you are.
And you have time.
We all have time.
...........................................
I'm going to end this stream of consciousness with this:
I'm scared shitless.
I've been lied to about life,
forever,
and that's ok.
Because,
even if I can't be anything I want,
I can be anything I love.
So no, I'm not limitless.
As my friend's father said,
I lack a rock-climber's body.
(They're thin, and I am meaty.)
But I don't have limits.
Does that make sense?
Nope.
But neither does life,
so fuck you.
I'm going to go do what I love,
and have fun doing it,
and somehow make money to live.
One step at a time.
Because that's "life".
Or what people seem to think it is.
...................
Of course, that isn't life.
It's just what you're told it is.
Life is way, way beyond that.
But nobody will ever tell you that.
You have to actively seek out interests,
passions,
loves.
You have to force yourself to audition for a show,
to audition for drumline,
to sing,
to revel in something that you just might like,
even if it isn't recommended by the suits.
You have to be willing to recognize that the system is flawed,
that,
if you listen to the adults,
you lose.
You lose literally everything that you once believed in.
You lose that limitless belief.
You lose the idea of freedom,
the idea of choice.
You look up, finding yourself somewhere you don't recognize.
You lose the feeling of creation that you once had.
You go over to your childhood friend's house,
but the magic isn't there.
The backyard isn't a secret agent's hideout.
It's grass,
and dirt,
and test scores.
And your entire worth as a student is gauged by a 32,
and a 1960,
and a 4.0,
and a collection of classes.
And you stop, and finally, in the fucking depth of summer, realize something.
.................................
You look back at your life,
barely lived,
with no risks,
and no parties,
or mistakes.
You hate what you see,
but love your success.
And you come to terms with the idea that, no,
you aren't what your grades say.
You're so much more.
And you're told in college that you don't have to worry about being a test score,
or having to let go of things you love to fit in a class third tri.
But you don't believe that,
because that's how high school was supposed to be.
And you are so fucking terrified.
You're scared of leaving,
and being torn between passion and success,
like always,
and you're terrified of five-figure debt,
which is unavoidable.
.........................................
Going back to the "being more than your schooling".
You realize that, even though you took little risk,
nobody else did.
You were all collectively fucked by adults.
Because leaving no child behind just holds others back.
So you stop crying about the lack of parties,
and wild nights,
like your parents talked about.
You look back and love thirteen shows,
and ten years of music,
and learning to tap,
and singing,
and kissing,
and loving,
and, of course, being a sassy bitch.
Because this is still my blog, sluts.
But you stop crying and you start thinking.
About how you can fight this notion of selection,
of choosing this or that.
You realize that, and I apologize in advance for this,
your family's opinions literally mean jack shit.
Because maybe you aren't a doctor,
or a lawyer,
or whatever.
Maybe you don't know what you are.
And you have time.
We all have time.
...........................................
I'm going to end this stream of consciousness with this:
I'm scared shitless.
I've been lied to about life,
forever,
and that's ok.
Because,
even if I can't be anything I want,
I can be anything I love.
So no, I'm not limitless.
As my friend's father said,
I lack a rock-climber's body.
(They're thin, and I am meaty.)
But I don't have limits.
Does that make sense?
Nope.
But neither does life,
so fuck you.
I'm going to go do what I love,
and have fun doing it,
and somehow make money to live.
One step at a time.
