Long time, no talk! 

Today’s post is going to be a lot of words, very few pictures, and fairly solemn. I’m sorry if it’s annoying to you. I promise to post a pretty beach picture from my run on Sunday at the end to make it more aesthetically pleasing =P.

I’ve been busy lately in the most unproductive way possible. Stress has completely consumed me at this point, my head is constantly spinning and I have no idea how to make it stop. I leave for college on August 19, the is SO soon, TOO soon. I am not ready in any way, shape, or form. I don’t feel ready to move away from home, I don’t feel ready to grow up.

For the last year and a half I have had myself and everybody else convinced that exercise science is my passion and that the college that I’m going to is my dream school. Over the last couple of months, I have found myself thinking more and more that I have been lying to myself by confusing safety and interest with passion. What I mean is, I like exercising and fitness, it’s a big part of my life and I would never give it up for anything in the world. That being said, it is also a horrible part of my life in some ways. Having an eating disorder gives me a fairly bad relationship with fitness, no matter how much I work out, it’s never enough. I always have that voice in my head telling me that I haven’t run far enough or fast enough, that i need to push and push and push. I push my body past its breaking point. I love fitness but the disordered part of me looks at it as punishment. Who am I to try to major in and eventually get a job in something that would require me to tell other people how to be healthy when I can’t even take care of myself? I like it, I do. But is it my passion? I’m unsure.

I’ve always been an artsy person. I used to spend hours drawing, I always dreamed of being an author, and music has been the thing that I have loved most in the world since I first discovered Evanescence at age 8. In middle school, I was bullied every day for the way that I drew, the books I read, and the music I listened to. These two boys would stand at the top of the staircase and drop textbooks down at me and my friends and chant “Emo, emo, emo,” having it echo all throughout the stairway. I got teased and mocked for being the person that I was, so going into high school, I made the decision to hide it.

The thing about wearing a mask, putting on a front to make the world believe that you’re someone you’re not (I pretended to be happy and girly really) is that eventually, you lose the person you used to be. I still listened to my music, but I didn’t sing or write lyrics anymore, I still read, but not as much, and I stopped drawing completely. 

Now, all of a sudden, I’m starting to find myself again, underneath the depression, the anxiety, and the eating disorder. I’m still there. I stopped forcing myself to like rap music just to be able to have something to sing along to in the car with my “friends.” I started drawing again, started writing again. I’m trying to learn guitar and I’ve been doing vocal covers of songs again. When I go to concerts, I feel like I’m where I’m supposed to be. I feel sick for days after concerts, I feel like I should be there, doing something, not going away to college to get a safe job and live in a little house and work a 9-5 job and have a family. That has never felt right. Music is what I’m passionate about. I want to do music.

I know, “who am I to think that it’s possible for me?” Who am I to think that I could be one of those select few people? What’s so special about me? Nothing. What would make me of all people be able to succeed? Nothing…. I know that. It’s near impossible. But I have to try. I can’t be one of those people who wind up 50, working in a job they don’t love, and bitter because they never even tried to follow their dreams. 

I’ve been a mess the last couple of days, stressed, crying myself to sleep at night. I feel so lost, I’m so scared for what the future would bring. Every single day that I don’t take a step towards following my dreams is a day wasted. I get older every single day and time will continue to run out. I’m immobilized by fear for the future. I feel like, for my entire like I have put things aside because of the voice in my head telling me that I’m not good enough or that it’s too late. Didn’t pick up my guitar when I got it two years ago because I was too old to learn how to play, didn’t get vocal lessons or art classes because I didn’t think I was good enough. I should have spent my life taking Bocces classes in music production and learning and singing and doing the thing I loved instead of living in fear. I’m scared that I’ve already ruined my future. I’m just honestly not sure what to do… My school doesn’t even offer a music production major so I couldn’t even change my major to follow my dreams if I wanted to. I just want to be around music, no matter what job it is.

I really do apologize for this emotional ramble. On the upside, I got a really nice 3 mile run in earlier this morning! 


Told you I’d put a pretty picture from my beach run at the end!



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