I can hear them talking about me outside.

How I cry too easily.

I don't know.

They don't understand my insecurities.
Even I don't understand why.

Why I'm such a disappointment.

Sometimes I think of how people can manage everything so easily.

I stalked a senior, just to find that when she was my age, she had so many commitments like Science Olympiad, Math Olympiad, National Debate, WSC, piano and other talent programs. She was able to juggle all of them so well and practise 1.5 hours on the piano and still feel unsatisfied, willing herself to practise more. She aimed to reach for the top three in her class because she knew she could do it.

...I feel so ashamed.

I remember trying to draw Benedict Cumberbatch, I failed miserably at it. At first it seemed good. But the longer I looked at it, the worse it got. Hair. Wrong. Everything. Wrong.

I'm pretty sure I was born wrongly, maybe I was dropped as a baby, that there was some malfunction in my body that made me unable to function normally.

I know I'm supposed to transform these kind of negative thinking into positivity, making sure I try my best to succeed at things. But sometimes when you've tried so damn hard and so many times you can't be sure, you don't. You just can't be bothered to face or acknowledge another failure. And sometimes you need to drown in your own misery and let it flow over you, rush over you.

I don't know what help it does.
But it makes me feel better in the end, when I'm physically and mentally unable to express my frustration at myself.

Perhaps it just means to clear your mind of all emotions, until you just feel numbed. Then you'll bounce back easily.

Writing this out. It makes me feel just that little bit better. I think I should continue with my journal :)