It's the 13th November and I feel like blogging is taking a huge back step in my life. For the first time, ever. Even through my GCSE exams in May/June, blogging was always present and I never left it alone even for a couple of days. Okay, so maybe it affected my grades but boy, (not boasting...) I still did well. Three A*'s and seven A's. That cannot be too bad.
I'm in my third month of college and loving it, I feel rather free to do what I want, whenever I want. The teachers don't press you but have the attitude that if you listen, you pass, if you don't - not their problem. It is so refreshing not having to sit in a class where you know that someone will be naughty. Someone will swear loudly. Someone will be sent out - or worse. SO nice.
As I have mentioned before, I have had a lot of work. In the half term when I went to Las Vegas for the week, I had:
- Classics exam questions
- Media Coursework - write three essays analysing magazines
- English Lit essay on Death of a Salesman (one of the most boring plays I have read. Disappointed in Arthur Miller...)
- Write a newspaper article on Banned Book Week
- History essay on War of the Roses
I'm not complaining. I don't mind getting homework and I understand that it has to be done, it's just...I am so bad at writing well and formally. I sit back and read over my essay for History and cringe. What has happened to me over the summer? I have two A*'s in English - how the hell did I get them? Okay, so I may be being hard on myself, but I honestly think I cannot write as well as I would like. I want to be a journalist, but that career seems to be seeming more unlikely at the moment. I don't want sympathy, that is not what this post is for. It is to get this all of my mind and just sort myself out.
I just feel that I have nothing to blog about and it is taking me much longer to read books. I don't know what to think really.
It's not only academically. Some of my friends do not like me - I know that. They all meet without me. Yes this sounds petty for a sixteen-year-old but I don't think people quite understand the effect it has. There was this girl at my old school who everyone thought was so weird. But I was friendly with her until she started to blame me for the comments and rumours about her. I didn't want to be seen with her, true, but I still cared about her as a friend should. We're not that good friends any more and she has said and done things I shall never forget because it hurt me.
But that's not the point. She was excluded from a lot of things, even things I organised, without a second thought. She'll never find out, she won't care. We can make up an excuse if she does ask. But I never quite realised how much it would hurt her because of course, she would find out - I didn't know the hurt because it had never happened to me.
It's such an awful feeling, always like the odd one out. And I do the majority of the time. I can name only about maybe a dozen people where I never feel this. A dozen seems a lot, but really, it's not enough to rely one all the time. I know I'm not the prettiest flower in the bed, I know I come across very intelligent and perhaps pretentious. But I also know people walk all over me to get what they want and that I find it hard to talk to people I'm not that friendly with. I'm not popular and I don't particularly want to be but I would at least like people just to like me, like anyone would.
All I'm saying is that next time you don't invite someone you're quite close to because they're weird, no-one likes them, they're a party-pooper. Think again. You might be hurting someone very badly. VERY very badly. Because you only experience this unique feeling when it happens to you. And it's not nice at all.
Maybe it's a teenage thing, or perhaps it's just human nature. Oh well, I'll get over it.
Thanks if you read this far.