why i’m a real-life failure

Since coming to college, all I’ve wanted to do was change. Backstory: I had friends in high school, developed pretty severe depression and anxiety sometime during those four years after a traumatic experience, and I was never popular. I was the girl who was acquaintances with just about everyone because I didn’t particularly hate anyone – which is the exact opposite of how high school works. So I suffered, and after moving to an in-state university (because, you know, $$$), I vowed to change. Only, despite the vast majority of out-of-staters, there were still tons of people I knew there. It soon became clear that my past would inevitably follow me so long as I stuck around the same general area.

I tried to branch out, be friendly to everyone I met and genuinely try to be their friend right off the bat because, more than anything, I wanted (and still do want) to have a #squad (forgive the hashtag, but lemme put it in words you’ll understand). I sincerely wanted, more than anything else in the world, a large(r) group of friends than my previous “party of three” I was used to throughout high school. I wanted to go out to dinner and fill half the restaurant. I wanted to talk to every single person there so I’d never run out of things to say like with one or two people. I wanted to have a birthday party that was more than a handful of people (excluding family, of course). But it wasn’t in the stars, although my horoscope never warned me that my lameness would be the one souvenir I took from home and carried with me for the rest of my life.

I’ve gone through the social sorority rush process twice: nope. I’ve rushed a business fraternity about one-and-a-half times: nada. I joined an aquatic sports team for a semester: couldn’t break into that bond with a sledgehammer. Lord knows I’ve tried, but no matter the interest, the organizations just didn’t reciprocate.

I’m at a “now what?” point in my life, feeling stuck with random friendships that just don’t mesh enough to create a friend group. The point where I’ve run out of options, am running out of time in my college career, and yet still have all of this free time I need to do something with. It’s not even for the resume – it’s for the fucking sake of friends, a place I belong. Without getting too emotional (it’s really not my style), I’ve never really had that. Not in my family, my school, my church, my sports – nowhere did I feel I was either there by choice or truly felt like I was an equal part.

I contemplate my life a lot, to the point where I may just start to describe it as an avid hobby of mine. Things are not good right now. Despite recent events, my depression is coming back in forms of all-time lows and I’m just in a solid rut. Even after all of the self-discovery and personal feats I’ve accomplished so far, I can’t help but feel ruined and cheated and completely undeserving of this fate – while at the same time, this feeling of failure feels all too familiar.

But life must go on, not because they say it does, but because if I were to end my life now, people would just forget about me. I refuse to be forgotten, as I know I would be at this point in my life. This is not an easy thing for me to access within myself. Feelings I thought I had eradicated have resurfaced and filled my free time with new doubts and old negativity. If I let this overcome me, what has it all been for? Why have I suffered if not to learn something or set an example or lead in the future?

The only thing that keeps me hanging on is the fact that I might just accomplish everything I’ve ever wanted to do in life – career-wise, personal-wise, goal-wise. That is, if things begin to pick up.

Alas, I am a real-life failure.

MORAL OF THE STORY: Don’t die until you’re sure you’ll be remembered.


Genuinely,

IC

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