Post high school blues


So I have been doing nothing resourceful for the past few weeks :).

Honestly, you’d think that being done with high school would be great. You’d have so much free time that you’d start exercising, eating healthier, get a part-time job and all those other stuff that we used to think about while the teacher was blabbering on in class.

Maybe it’s just me, but none of that has happened to me. All I am thinking about almost more than half of the time is “Oh, how tired I am”. It’s sad because it’s true.

I’m at home all day long. Drinking tea (even though the weather can go as high as 35°c, which I know to others is child’s play, but still), watching movies, trying to write a bestseller (which is going), doing anything and everything that can be classified as a time waster. Nothing productive. I watch my little sister wake up and go to school, and every morning a little part of me envies her. I envy having something to do during the day. I envy feeling like I have a purpose.

I mean, I’ll be going to college in a couple of weeks, but just seeing everyone’s lives go on while mine is at a standstill is really sad and depressing on my part.

Although, sad and depressing I still managed to accomplish something these holidays. I realised that the reason my novel seemed to be stuck was because of the writing style.

I wrote the novel five years ago, while I was still 13/14. It was fun. I was discovering my love for writing and I had found a different way to express myself. My friends said that they liked it, which made me even happier. But then last year I decided that the novel felt like it was written by a kid (and it was). I did not feel like it was ready to be published just yet.

The book had already been a series, three books already, and I decided to start afresh. It was a good idea at first. To stop the alternating first point of views between the two main leads and just make it a third person’s point of view. It was great. I mean, anyone would think that it is the perfect idea. But then (there’s always a but) I got stuck. I wanted the story to be exactly like the original and just change the p.o.vs. What I did not realise was that I was trying too hard to make it what I thought would be perfect.

So weeks passed, months passed and I still did not have the will to write. I mean, I forced myself every now and then to write, but the only writing that seemed successful were the books on my Wattpad page. Those were flowing (and I was glad).

So a few days ago as I was sitting and idea popped into my head and it was genius!

Start the book afreah (again), but this time without consulting the original. I already knew the characters. I already knew the setting and genre. I knew what was going to happen and the plot twists.

It was genius. I’d change the point of view and make it first person again, but this time mostly focusing on the female lead, and then changing the p.o.v to the third when absolutely necessary. I’d change a few things to make it my own and make it less Twilight-ish (I used to be a Twilight freak. Still am really). I’ll make it more realistic, more believable even though it’s fantasy. I’ll just give the characters more of a personality. Take them out of highschool, but still manage to make it appeal to young adults. (Really, a lot of thinking on my part).

I was stressed for a while, before everything came into place. I am a writer. I love writing and I’m even going to be a copywriter, which needs me to be creative, but I felt like I had lost my oomf. Deep down, I was starting to regret my high school choices.

I shouldn’t have taken that online personality quiz that would soon make me realise that copywriting was the career for me.

I shouldn’t have stopped my dream of being an accountant (bleh!).

I should have sucked it up and stopped my foolish dreams of becoming a copywriter. I mean, the pays are completely different. With being an accountant, I would live a comfortable life, knowing that I won’t struggle much when it came to getting money. Even though I wouldn’t be happy.

So I went to my mother and cried my heart out. I was desperate to tell someone and let them show me the way. I was a writer, but I couldn’t write. I was having an identity crisis and it was breaking me apart.

My mother told me not to worry, and that it would all come back in due course. She knows how much I love writing and knows it makes me happy.

She’s actually the reason that I carried on with my dream of living a creative life and not be stuck behind a desk all day long, doing something that I dislike for the rest of my life.

I’m very greatful to her. To my dad too (because he tries). I love writing. It is a part of me now and I know that no matter where I am in my writing career, I can solve my problems with a positive mindset, even when life pushes me down.

I guess what I am trying to say is that no matter how stressful or meaningless your life may seem, it is all just temporary. It passes.

I’m a bit down right now because my sister is at school. I used to be down because I was having an identity crisis. I used to be down because I thought that I had failed highschool (I didn’t, yay!). All of those things pass. In two weeks I’ll be starting college, in a new city, in a new province. I solved my identity crisis problem by not giving up on my writing and drinking coffee (tons). I found out that I had passed grade 12 with flying colours.

The bad doesn’t last forever (I won’t tell you that it makes you stronger either). You just have to be patient and it will pass. You will be happy and confident again.

I hope that everything works out for all of you. Hope to write again soon.


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