I'm in the homestretch, I can nearly smell my mother's perfume, and winter break is only a couple of days away. I can't help but think that college has made me realize just how lonely, plain, and unsatisifed of a life is in store for me. I'm not one to restrict myself to notions of destiny, but for as long as I could remember I've felt as though there'd never truly be anyone there to understand me, or anyone who would care to beyond just superficial infatuation (I've been the manic pixie dream girl a good number of times). And I think this isn't a fatal cognitive flaw with me, but rather just a comorbidity of being "unique". Life is beautiful, complicated, and horrible all at once, and you don't need me to tell you that. But I constantly feel as though I'll never be able to take advantage of it. I hate that I'm no longer the way I used to be. As a child I yearned for knowledge, poetry, art, and emotions, but now it's those exact things that entrap me into a self-pitying melancholy. I have so many great ideas, so many thoughts I wish I could articulate into beautiful deep manifestations, but I just rot and rot and rot in my bed instead. Don't mistake the way I'm feeling for depression, but rather a livid self hatred for not being able to reach my potential. It's a ghastly horrible thing to not be able to utilize your mind to do something great, especially when you have the capacity for it. I've just barely turned into an adult, and I hate thinking of how I might be actively sentencing myself to nothing but mediocrity. I don't have drive or passion, but just interest. I try to tell myself that my weirdness that has isolated me in one way or another from everybody is worth it because it means I see the world in a way that other people might not. But so what? What good is there in being unique when you have nothing to offer from it. I intensely both love and hate myself at the same time, and I think this constant frustration between the two is what's been stopping me from achieving greatness. I don't know what I'm even writing anymore. I worry so much that this "diary" is just coming across as me being some pretentious emo. And I don't wish to convey that, but I also have felt like I've lost the means to express myself as I've entered college. People don't understand me, because I don't understand me. And as always, this is nothing that's exclusive to me in any way. But when you're unable to connect to people in the way you want, it's hard not to succumb to an egocentric world view. I'm cringe, but am I free? I think it's just me being on my period tho lol