"You can never do something right."

I discovered an intense dislike for that quote. It came up today during fiction writing, and then again in history when talking about political parties. I know this quote to be true, and I know the facts for which it stands. But today, it just started bothering me.

Life isn't fair.

In Creative Writing, I have never doubted the fact that there is always something to improve on in a piece. For the first time, I found myself frustrated with that fact. Why could I never get an absolute answer? 2+2=4. I swear, if someone corrects me on that, I'm going to shoot them. I'm not a math person, but math, almost all the dang time, you'll get a concrete answer. Or, at least, a concrete formula to find an answer.

When driving and changing lanes in a traffic jam, you'll never be in the right lane. When retelling a story, it will never completely be true to life. When writing a piece of fiction, there's always more to work on.

I usually admire the limitless possibilities that writing presents; it's something that I hold on to when writing because I can create whole worlds from words. I can invite others on an adventure with me, and I can transform and shape thoughts, perspectives, and lives. Today, it frustrated me that I couldn't get anything right. That there will always be something wrong, that I can't deliver the perfect unf to something.


Lately, when someone asks me how I've been (and I mean the people who actually care for a real answer), I usually say, "burned out." And I am. I have been so busy that I rarely have time to sit down by myself. There's always more to do- more homework, more classes to go to, more music to memorize, more things to do at home, more hours at work...

It's been difficult, and I feel part of myself and my emotions burning away. I've been finding a lot of the ways I've changed...and discovered that many of them were things that I liked. I like that I have a job and wonderful co-workers. I like that my family is still so tight-knit, that I always have the love that I need in my family. I love that we love, not like traditional Asian families, but not unlike them either. I like that I have friends, that I have people around me. I like that I have people who want to know more about me and who genuinely care about me. I like that I have a huge support group, that there are people I can always count on. I like that as I grow older, I learn to appreciate these things more and more.

 But I think that the things I love the most are within myself or between myself and God. I love that even though I have failed, again and again, so many times, that God will love me still. I love that He still reminds me, in every way possible, even though I break His heart over and over, and it teaches me love, it teaches me humility, and compassion and sacrifice and kindness and the wholeness that only comes with loving others selflessly and unconditionally. I love being able to be His, and I love having places I can call home. I love that I can talk to people. I love that I can easily strike conversation, and that I can easily meet new people. I love that I can carry myself with confidence, that I am not forced to keep my eyes onto the ground by my own emotions.

Not saying, of course, that I don't have those days- but less so, now. I've finished with the valley and climbed the steep slope up, and now it's mountaintops until I get to the next valley. And then there are those changes that I wish I didn't have.

Along with being burnt out, I find my heart doing the same as well. Where is my passion for so many things? Where is my drive, my needs and wants to do things? Where do I drag out the love for people I have to love? I laugh when I want to laugh.

The sad thing is, I laugh when I want to cry as well.