Lily. Essence. Art.

I like far more than I reblog

I feel like I’m emotionally compromised somehow, but unwilling to acknowledge it in way that can actually help me. The other day, I had two servings at lunch and three at dinner plus a snack at midnight. I’m pretty sure something is wrong with me, but I just don’t want to deal with it.

I’m quietly dying inside whenever I see good art. Sometimes, I stop breathing and just feel so amazed and I just want to comb over every detail and appreciate it all. I just want to see how it was created, and the strokes of everything and watch in wonder. Someone had it in their mind to create something so beautiful, and oh they are beautiful too. I just want to keep looking and time just goes by and I’m still not happy with how much I’ve seen. I must have some sort of variation of Stendhal Syndrome.

Please know that this decision in no way diminishes your application. We were humbled by your talents and achievements and by the commitment you demonstrated in all of your academic and extracurricular endeavors. — Please know that we wouldn’t ask you to wait longer if we didn’t have a good reason for doing so, each person on the Wait List is someone we’d love to see. At the same time, we have to be realistic and note that there are no guarantees, so you should make sure that you have another option for next year should a spot not become available. — While I recognize this is not what you were hoping for, you should know that the students on our waitlist are still among the most qualified of our applicants. — The committee’s conclusion is not a judgement about your worth, and it does not reflect your ability to succeed in a rigorous college environment… I imagine you are hearing from other colleges and universities this week, and I am confident that you have many fine choices —

Bullshit. Go ahead. Tell me that all these years of hard work were for nothing. Tell me that you expect me to continue to work hard for another four years for another chance at some sort of reward. Tell me again in four years that I haven’t worked hard enough. Tell me that all those childhood memories and games I could have played and enjoyed are gone for a good reason. Tell me all those friendships I could have formed and loved are gone for a good reason. Tell me all those sleepless nights and physical burdens were for a good reason. Go ahead and tell me that I haven’t sacrificed enough of myself for some recognition in this world. I don’t have anymore of myself to give. What now? Remove myself from the world? Give up my life? Maybe I’ll get an article in the paper. Maybe it’ll just be a little paragraph. Maybe then you won’t even have the need to tell me. Maybe then I can get some time for myself. Maybe then I can give myself the break I deserve. No one cares about these achievements anyways. Least of all myself. “Fine choices” Fuck you.

deferred - rejected - waitlist - waitlist —-

caltech-rice-uchicago-rice-mit-rice-rice-welsh —-

My solitary acceptance and honor program make me feel like shit. Is there no end to this?

Hide it. Hide it all. Stop showing me. Stop telling me. Stop it. I know already. I am a failure, and you are successful. Stop it. Let me just keep my head down and pass in peace. -Hide -Hide -Hide -Hide -Hide

I am so bitter. Once rejected, twice a second-choice option. Accepted once only - only - because I must be. I see others celebrating and happy. I wish I didn’t feel this way as I congratulate them before blocking the messages and trying to forget. Have I not worked as hard? Have I not excelled as much? Have I not been a bright personality? no.no.no. I have so little confidence anymore. So many years wasted. I’m such a failure. Such. A. Bitter. Failure.

Stupid person. Why fall in love with something you can never have?

One of the most beautiful people I have ever met has become even more beautiful, not because of any physical alterations, but because she had the courage to do it.

I’m surrounded by amazing friends, but I feel like I’ve become dependent on others for signs of affection ever since I started tolerating hugs. When I’m by myself, I feel infinitely more lonely than I did before.