Exam Day

Exam Day. May 2000.

I hadn’t slept a bloody wink the night before the exam, so apart from being obviously nervous, I was also tired and hyper sensitive to boot. The exam. The be all and end all of exams that would determine a huge, fat chunk of my so-called future. Well, sorry, but screw future when, let’s face it, they have a terrible way of running out in mid-flight and ruining everything you ever dreamed of. You end the check-out girl in the supermarket down the road, because yeah, you want a life like that don’t you? It’s all you’ve got left. Well, stuff that! I’d never want to do that. I’m better, I’m better than that! Aren’t I?

Sometimes I pee myself off so much it’s unbelievable and I try so hard to escape myself before I want to gag and bind me like a lot of my friends might want to when I get annoying. I know what I want and what I need to do in order to succeed, yet it’s still not a good enough incentive to get me moving. Not enough to kick me up the backside and make the step into the kind of future I wish to have. One thing only holds me back. Fear. A pure and desperately insecure slither of fear. And because of that, I will forever be discontent with the rest of my life because I will always continue to take teeny-weeny baby steps with caution, when what I really need to do is take that leap of faith and just go for it. Right?

Even though I’ve pretty much given up on myself, it doesn’t seem to stop me from seeking other people’s approval. As if I feel like if I get enough support or love or comfort or praise then maybe, maybe then I might find it in me to go forwards with my life. Every now and then the fire flickers and reminds me of my dreams and ambitions to let me know I haven’t quite forgotten yet. I may be lost, but I believe I can be found. It gives me hope that there might still be a way. If only I’d just reach out and grab it instead of letting it float serenely past as I watch it with a sort of longing, even though I’m waving it onwards and goodbye. The fire does still burn, if only visible to me.

I couldn’t imagine doing much else with my life. There are some things that I just want to have to do. Even though right now I have no intention of doing them, the dream is there, playing in front of my eyes, teasing me, saying ‘I dare you.’ It’s not as f I’ll ever be the next big thing, but I certainly want that sense of personal satisfaction and achievement. Am I just kidding myself? I’d love to have the recognition from something I do well when I can let go of myself and get rid of my head. Why can’t I let go?

I’m a bit of a disappointment to the people around me and the more I carry on this way, hiding in my fear I serve to disappoint myself. There are some people I know who are absolutely determined to make it in this world at whatever cost. Would I do whatever it takes I wonder? My friends have that special something, that x-factor about them that people pick up on and immediately think, ‘yeah, they’ll make it, they’ve got what it takes, they’ve got a great future ahead of them.’ Would people ever say that about me? I think not. I’d like people to say it one day, but I can’t quite imagine it. I’ll have to get used to that I guess.

To be honest, I’m not sure where it all went pear shaped. I went from a gutsy little kid who’d do anything given the chance and had a hell of a lot of fun on the way; I didn’t even show my nerves. I lived for the experience of it all. And now what? I’m this. I mean I’m THIS! Me. The girl who screwed up so many times in the quest for perfection and adoration that she has gone past it and out of it and away from it. I ignored the advice given along the way and have been sliding into the undergrowth ever since. In order not to fail, yet another of my fears, I quit before I even have the chance to fail. I couldn’t hack somebody whispering ‘I told you so.’ I’ve quit on the very thing which makes me happy.

I’m the one who sits there in the future full of regret and emptiness, thinking of all the things I should’ve, would’ve, could’ve done but didn’t because I got scared and chickened out. And I’ll be muttering under my breath like a crazy girl, ‘If only, if only…’ It’s as if I have two voices who are constantly battling it out to be heard inside my head. One telling me I’m talented and sweet and funny and how fantastic life can be when you take up opportunities, whilst the other snipes at me with venom on the tongue, saying, ‘What’s the point? You’ll never make it, why waste your time and effort and set yourself up for failure where everyone will laugh at you?!’

Well, anyway I find myself straying as usual. So, what DO I need to do in order to get over whatever it is that’s holding me back? I guess I really should take the plunge and start to do the things I once used to, from before the crap and confusion kicked in. Before I stopped being happy. But then, of course there’s still my fear. Fear of what other people will think or say. Fear of failure. Fear of the future. Fear of the past. Fear of letting anyone down. Fear of falling flat on my face. Fear of… something as stupid as the way I look. How pathetic is that? I’m giving up my shot of happiness because I’m afraid my body betrays me!

I tell myself that if only I was thinner and prettier and nicer and cleverer and brighter and sweeter and was closer to perfection, well then, maybe I could do it because I’d have less to be scared of. But then again, why should I bother? Who am I trying to please? Will I be able to make it regardless of my looks? Isn’t it attitude and personality that counts? This is so damn frustrating! What the hell is wrong with me? I’m ruining my chances each day and wasting the opportunities being given to me just because I’m insecure and paranoid and self absorbed.

By the way, I messed up the exam. Everything was perfect until I lost my lines and place and couldn’t get back into the piece. Boom, bang goes my ambition. I’m not cut out to be in this world, under the microscope of my peers. I cried and cried as if the day would never end. Then, in true high school style, we got drunk and had a slumber party. I want out of this place. I need to get away… But how? Where?

Yeah, I’m the one with the vacant look in my eyes, who spills out one depressing comment after another and pretends to be blasé and not give a damn. The one who people describe as strange and slightly interesting, in a distant sort of way, because they don’t know quite what to make of me. At 18 my future seems desolate. I’m the one going to bed crying at night because of all the things I deny myself and screaming at the mirror because it shows me a person I don’t want to be anymore. I hate this, and none of you see.