I’ve always considered myself a dreamer – ever since I can remember I’ve dreamt bigger than big, but now I’ve let myself down. I dreamt of obtaining a degree at the best of universities, I dreamt of being swept off my feet in a fairytale romance.
I started my first year at university a few weeks ago, after much dismay about not getting accepted into medicine at the university of my downsized dreams, I celebrated my acceptance at the best veterinary school in the continent – the first week had me incredibly chuffed that I had been chosen for a career tailor made for me.
At about the same time I caught feelings for a very good friend, unrequited feelings that is – or so I think. The insecurities have never been so bad, I’m obviously not sufficient enough for a relationship, this brand of crazy that I’ve got going on can get a little old at times, and whose to say I’m even attractive – sure, I may think so but do other people?
Now, I’ve been waking up every night reaching for something that isn’t there – I have regrets about not opening certain doors when the doors never existed in the first place.
I wish I could have dreamt big enough to have gone to an Ivy League as I dreamt of every single time my dad reminisced over his days at Harvard. I wish I could’ve valued myself more to not catch feelings and consequently lower my moral preferences to try and corner said subject of my affection.
Really, I don’t know what it is – I’ve been feeling this incredible emptiness, a gaping hole of nothing, deep within my gut that had me try to grasp thin air in an effort to fill that hole regardless of the measures necessary to fill it – but as I try and fill that hole it only increases in size, the feeling of emptiness growing exponentially.
I can’t call out for help, because I’m afraid that others might share my self disappointment too.