Pride

I’m trying to think of a time where I was proud to be me. Where I was glad to be me. I can’t think of any. I think for brief moments in my life I was proud of certain things. But I think about it and all seems so superficial and meaningless. I have very few skills to be proud of. Very few accomplishments that I can think of. I’m only really good at getting good grades. But even then I feel like I got it trough luck and because I got things handed to me. I never felt like I earned what I have. Even then, I’m still not very booksmart. I got the grades through seeing loopholes and cramming. All the information more or less leaves my head afterwards. I’ve never done anything outside of class that can be called noteworthy. I think the only thing that I’ve ever been considered “good at” is my part time jobs working as a delivery driver or as a cashier. My degree I’m working towards doesn’t seem earned. The internships felt like they were given to me, not earned. I am not proud. I do not like being me. I can’t remember the last time I liked being me.

To that one guy who bothers to comment on my posts, what’s up with you? Why do you bother leaving a comment. I don’t really read the posts you write on the site. I skim them sometimes. I’m sorry about that. I know you probably have your own troubles, so I feel bad that I don’t give you the same courtesey of listening to them. I feel like nothing I write seems worthy or reading, so why do you read them? I mean I appreciate it and all, but it just seems odd.