I’m not a ne’er do well

I’m surprised to find myself on here. I don’t even know what it’s going to prove. I’m just so incredibly tired. Of everything. I wish I could die, because living here and now seems pointless. Many people would probably tell me I have no reason to want to die. They’re probably right. I’m probably just a spoiled little brat who should be grateful for all the things I have. Yet death seems so much more soothing to me.

I’m an actress, or rather, I used to be one. Ever since I was a small girl, I wanted to perform professionally. It was my dream. Everyone wants to be an actor, you realize. Everyone wants to be a movie star. While that would’ve been nice, I was happy to just have acting as my main source of income. Maybe a part time positions somewhere; a waitressing job here, a receptionist job there. But I wanted to PERFORM.

I also enjoyed writing music, and also fiction. I wrote pages and pages of short stories that could be compiled to be a novel someday. I painted pictures of the stories, wrote songs for them. My life is creating, and it’s all I ever wanted to do. Create create create. I have no other desire for anything else.

I was doing it for a short while in NYC in my twenties, and I had everything going for me accept one thing: I was lonely. I wanted to fall in love with someone, and be loved. What young woman doesn’t want that?

Well, I got it. I met the man of my dreams. We bought a house. He’s so different from me; he’s a business professional who makes good money climbing to corporate ladder. He’s a “pull myself up by my bootstraps” type of fellow. His life was not the easiest, and he used to have a chip on his shoulder, but he’d been able to achieve fine things for himself with his company. He started out as an administrative assistant, and after year upon year of promotions, he’s made it to a high paying position in financing. I’m very proud of him and the things he’s achieved.

He’s a great man, and I adore him. He’s sweet, caring and very loving. We’ve been married for about seven months now.

My career, on the other hand, has fallen flat. The area in which we live has dried up, as far as acting jobs go. And there really isn’t much else for me to do. We have a mortgage now, and it would seem it’s time to grow up. Put those silly dreams away.

You see, because he was able to bring himself up to a good place, he sees me and wants the same for me. He wanted me to become an administrative assistant, just like he used to be.

Don’t get me wrong, he’s encouraged my creativity; he’d told me to quit my waitressing job and write my manuscript, but once that’s done with I would have to find a “real” job. I don’t truly have a problem with that, but there is a sort of attitude I’m getting from him over the past year or two where I feel…judged.

The only education I’ve ever received was from performing arts schools. I have very little skill in much else. Any while I did finish my first manuscript, my aspirations to become a writer are not going to pay the bills. So now I’m an administrative assistant…just like he used to be. He wants me to get enough office experience and maybe in a few months he will be able to get me working for his company.

But I don’t want this. I want to create. Filling out fake web analysis reports (who am I to do that kind of work? I don’t know a think about marketing!), processing enrollment agreements, filing. Paperwork, paperwork, paperwork. I’m miserable.

I’m not sure if my misery is from the work itself, or even from the idea that I’m not following my dreams. The pain I’m feeling is more so from the idea that he (along with everyone else) is looking at me thinking, “Finally, she’s deciding to become a mature adult. The silly little thing has finally decided to come to her senses.”

My dreams weren’t nonsense. I was making money at them…but I feel like everyone is thinking of me as a ne’er-do-well who has finally reformed. It’s humiliating, especially since I’M A HORRIBLE OFFICE ASSISTANT. I can’t seem to do anything right. I make mistakes, people get angry at me. Maybe I am just a stupid loser.

I’m NOT  a ne’er do well. I know what I want to do, I just can’t do it!!

I hate who I am, and wish I could be like everyone else. I hate that I am always dreaming, always thinking about being creative. I wish I was a non-creative concrete thinker like everyone else.

I want to die. There is no point to my existence. I can’t do what they want me to do, and I can’t do what I want to do, so what else is there?

I failed at everything. My acting career, I wrote a manuscript that NO ONE WILL CARE TO READ EVER, and now when I try to assimilate and do what I’m “supposed” to do, I can’t even do that right. I really wish I could go to sleep and never wake up.