Happy Friday everyone! I just wanted to say a thank you to everyone who read my last post. The likes, retweets on twitter, and nice words really made my night and honestly gave me the fuel I needed to keep going. And today, I’ve decided to talk about just that. Keep going.

My entire life, I feel as if work would be the death of me. And not exactly the mindless and monotonous work of washing the dishes, or sweeping the stairs, or wiping down the counters. I might not have wanted to start, but once I got in a groove, it was quite easy to lose myself in the rhythm of cleaning. What I’m talking about is the grueling and mind-numbing toil of homework. I couldn’t, for the life of me, bring myself to stay focused enough to finish the easiest of homework without it taking multiple hours. It was hell, I couldn’t just lose myself in the numbers and letters like I could do with sweeping and dusting. I needed to stay present if I wanted to do good work, work that would get me the grades everyone told me I should’ve been able to get with just a bit more effort.

So I stopped doing. To keep going was to actively harm myself. Putting effort into anything felt like inhumane torture. Now you might say I’m being dramatic, and I promise you my parents would agree with you, but that’s genuinely how it felt growing up. I stopped doing classwork I couldn’t finish in the span of 5 minutes, and don’t even bring up projects and homework. They were dead to me. Luckily for me, or rather to my own detriment, I always did well on quizzes and tests so I was able to cruise through classes and school years without doing over half my homework.

This led to many bad habits, including never studying or taking many notes, just because I believed I was fine without it. I mean, who really cared? My grades weren’t great, or very good for that matter, but I was passing, so whatever. That’s all that mattered, right? Wrong. It was terrible. My high school career I almost stayed back every year and I was stuck in classes I knew I was too good for. And that, my friend, was also hell.

So that brings me to now; a college drop-out working a minimun wage to supplement myself as I attempt to take back my life through writing. I often find myself looking back on my life, all the mistakes I’ve made, all the people I’ve let down and took for granted, and chances I let slip by and I think what if I just did this or what if I just told them that. How far would I be now if I went back with all I knew now? It’s a fun, albeit bitter thought, that occassionally takes hold of me and brings a sense of peace but also an endless restlessness.

How nice would it be if it was true. I can only imagine, but I know it’s useless. I can’t go back in time to fix all my mistakes and live a better life. I can’t send back the knowledge I’ve gained through my trial and error. Through my living of life. All that’s left is the future, and everyday I’m teaching myself to be okay with that. I might not be able to go back into the past, but I can dictate where I go from here. I can keep going. And that’s what I hope to do from now on. To keep doing. To keep going. I advise you do the same.