Paying the Price

Sometimes, I wonder where good fortune actually comes from.

Growing up, I'd been a devout Christian.  I'd prayed every night, I did as I was told, I worked hard and the most I had to show for it was A grades and the words 'she has potential'.

And then the world turned on its head, and I watched everyone and anyone surpass my dreams and hopes.  Not only that, I saw people who in retrospect I can only describe as 'ordinary' enjoy life as I never would.  I watched as girls I went to school with married their dream men, whilst I progressed through a monotone tracked single life.  I watched as those who achieved less than me academically wound up in their dream jobs whilst I remained stuck in never-ending academia and under-achievement.  I watched as people younger than me progressed and bought cars, properties, had children, families...life.  I watched as my own father chose another daughter to care for, and I had to step back and choose myself.  I had to walk an uncomfortable path, alone.  

And now, all I'm thinking is, didn't I pay the price?  And if I didn't what is it?

And now, as I prepare to turn 26 and head closer to my 'scary' age of 30 I just think, I haven't paid the price, because whatever it is, I clearly can't afford it.  

I just want to know, when the suffering and grinding ends.  I just want to know when the actual "all clear" moment comes into it.  I've told myself to just finish these two courses at uni, and then somehow things will get better.

But somewhere in the corner of my mind I really don't think that there is a better for me.  And even after four years of trying I don't feel or see a real difference in my life.  I am more alone than ever, and even though I'm not sinking...I'm not feeling.  I don't feel like I have a real place...anywhere.  I don't relate to anyone, and the torture of this just seems to stretch out and out.

Some things people go through to get somewhere else.  But I honestly can't remember anything past this.  I honestly can't remember happiness, or even a real sense of achievement.  Just this self serving existence that never brought me any joy.

It's funny, before I returned to uni I thought I'd found my place.  And was closer to where I wanted to be.

Now I see that I was very wrong.

I have no place, and don't know if I'll ever be where I want to be.  I finished the writing assignment, and looking at it, I'm very doubtful that I can actually write.  I'm not convinced.  I think I can slap a few sentences together, I don't think that I am the writer I thought I would be.  I'm certainly not the woman I thought I'd be.  

I'm a mess with no real story.  And the story I'm trying to write, hurts me as much as the story I'm living.  And then I just think, who's going to want to read it?  Who's going to want to listen?

No one listens to me in real life, who's going to want to read what I have to write?

I suppose, it's all a lot of doubt.  And that's why I didn't pursue writing after leaving school.  I was too frightened, to believe that my one true calling was writing.  I have entered countless writing competitions, and no luck.  I tried a Design course, and no luck. 

I guess my 'calling' is a dead end.  

I can see where this is going to wind up and it frightens me.  Because the girl who prayed every night, and got As and believed she had potential, I'm letting her down.  

And I don't know how I wound up here, alone, with nothing but a sketchy dream to follow.  

And I hope if this is God's will it turns right soon.  

I just want to give up.  I can't see an end to this.