Taken from m-a-r-i-n-a-r-a
I had so much vigor at the beginning of the semester.  A certain joie de vivre, if you will.  Enthusiastic about conquering this semester, taking my major-related courses and having a steady relationship, but, alas, I think this semester's kicking my ass harder than I ever wanted it to.  I'm finally taking major-required courses.  I'm taking courses in things I'm interested in.  I'm taking courses about information that I like.  And I still can't crack it.  I legitimately loath that I'm pretty mediocre at everything.  I'd rather have that one thing I'm pretty genius at.  And then major in it.  Oh wait, I've discovered it; it's everything I can't put on a resume.  I can't put "great at making friends," "can make a person feel like they're the number one in my life," and "getting screwed over by people who say they love me" on it.  I'm pretty genius at that last one.  And it tears me up inside.  Because I give so much and have it flung back in my face.

I know that I can be a handful.  I know that I don't make sense most of the time, that I act on impulse, that everything is a great idea until it legitimately isn't.  Or that I plan and plan and work and plan and come up with ideas and make schematics and work and work and STILL nothing comes of it.  Nothing that I want, anyway.  Or something that I do want, but I'm too upset by the fact that the initial outcome didn't happen that I can't see the good in the alternative.  I'm pretty good at that.

But I know that the one time I stop legitimately giving a shit is the time that everything falls through. And someone gets legitimately hurt and can't carry on.  And if I were ever to hurt someone that badly, I don't think I can carry on being myself.  Because being me means being bad at things that matter, but being the best at things that don't necessarily matter in terms of money-making and careers, but in terms of people's lives can be the most important thing ever.

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