It’s hard for me to feel like I’m not failing at something. I’m on holidays and so I have nothing to do – and even though I’m doing French exercises occasionally, I still just feel like I’m being unbearably lazy. Like if I ever want to achieve something, I need to be working right now. I do write my little stories sometimes, and otherwise I’m often cooking or cleaning which aren’t exactly the hobbies of a complete loser in life. And yet I feel, for lack of a less stereotypical word, unfulfilled. Despite the fact that more than half my peers are probably doing less than I am, at the moment.
Perhaps I just really need to work harder on learning languages fluently and writing a tonne of stories. I don’t know. Part of me really, really wants to but it can be so very difficult to be motivated when I could just be reading books or with my cat. Or making scrumptious chocolate desserts.
I blame this uneasy feeling on my horrible jealousy of people who succeed, especially those who succeed young. I look at my own list of achievements – mostly good marks – and they seem paltry in comparison to the many people who are doing so many brilliant things. Like when I stumble across Top With Cinnamon, a gorgeous food blog run by a seventeen year old. I was borrowing her croissant recipe when I noticed that she’d started this when she was 15.
Seeing things like that make me ashamed of myself.
So I guess I need to go do something that makes me proud instead.