So here I am, sitting up on my bed. Listening to Sixx:A.M. and trying not to cry. I thought I could stop all these negative thoughts, but I guess I can’t. It really sucks. I started thinking about three months after I graduated from high school. I was all excited for the life I wanted to have. Continue to keep the right mindset and not let anyone get to me about my position I wanted to study in college. I wanted to do Audio Recording, the whole year before was finding more things about it and other colleges. I asked the professor about different going into it with me being handicapped. He had the same confidence as I did at that time. I was excited when I went to the campus trip our school took us on. I got to meet the professor I had been talking to online. Saw the rooms and production. Even saw and talked to some of the boys, mind you there was no girls in this classroom. Some of the boys I knew because they graduated the year before. I had a good time and I was pumped to go home and talk to my parents about it.
When August came, I had some confidence but as the summer came in, most of the confidence I had was gone. My mom and I went to the campus for registration and I was feeling uncomfortable. I don’t know what was wrong with me. It wasn’t the people who was bugging me, it was the fact that as we told everybody what I was going for, you know they’re minds were like huh? I always love a good challenge, but as we started making plans with Voc Rehab, my depression settled in. I’m not a fan of having to need about a billion things, especially when I know nothing is cheap. I didn’t go to my first day of classes, instead I did online classes. Those were a piece of work. I hated them so much. By September came along, I noticed anytime we went somewhere I couldn’t get happy. I went to my cousin’s house one day, got up in the morning. Got off the bed and went into their kitchen. I just sat on the floor and thought about every single thing that was bugging me. School, friends, sadness. Everything. I decided to quit that October, but my depression didn’t end until December.
I have a history of wanting to start something, work up the confidence to do it, tell everybody about my plans, but when it’s about ready to be handed to me. Something happens. Everything I start, I never finish. I’ve tried since to break this cycle, but I just can’t seem to stick with anything. I tend to feel like a failure. Always wanting to do something and quitting before I even see if I really like it or not. Early last year, I thought about doing these different bracelets and necklaces. I wanted to do them for Music For Relief’s charity for Haiti and Japan. I had planned out everything. I had went to Walmart searching for the right kind of beads I would be able to use, found those and saved the prices on my phone. Well, one day while my Aunt Laurie was down, we went to Walmart. She bought me thread and three different types of beads. Two weeks after I got everything, I stopped. Just like that. I have never felt so bad in my life. Because I asked for this stuff and I no longer use them. They’re in an old purse of mine somewhere in my room.
So when I started getting ideas about drawing again I freaked. I hadn’t had many thoughts of drawing again. Not because I didn’t think I could do it, it was for two reasons: would I finish them all and will you let your doubts get the best of you? Well it’s a little bit of both. I told everybody in my family, hell even some of my Twitter friends I was thinking of drawing again. Big mistake. They got all excited for me, but I still unsure. At this point, it was still an idea. Then one morning, my dad went to Walmart and came back with Art supplies for me. Heh, round two? I was happy and pissed at myself because even I knew I couldn’t do it. It’s been a few weeks now and I have not started on any of my drawings. So guess who feels like a failure once again? Me, that’s who. I had literally thought of ways to get these pictures printed out, it’s just the process of waiting and dealing with myself starting this up doing it all on my own. So I don’t know if I’ll ever start it back up, and I don’t know what to say to my dad the next time he asks me if I want to get on the floor and draw. It kills me everytime I hear those words come out of his mouth.