There's Always a Next Time--Believe Me!

You've made a mistake, an unacceptable treachery that will cost you dearly.
You know the price you have to pay now.

You took it with hesitation--but no intention of retaliating.
It's all your fault now.

You cry in your bed.

I Hate Being a Teenager;

You look at your friend-- smarter, livelier, and humbler than you'll ever be. 

They're way too nice for you to be a hater, and at the same time you wish that you lived in their shoes-- their parents that give them permission to invest in stocks (isn't that illegal?), love to freely spend, and they have perfect relationships with everyone (you turn a corner---Hello? Is that you?).

They also have the perfect grades, in which you can't even dream of comparing yourself to them. 

You look at your crush-- way too good for you. 

They're way too perfect, and the feeling--that feeling where they might just like you from the glances and the intentional school shortcuts that you take to just sneak a glance at them-- it's a feeling of angst, dread, anxiety, one that keeps someone up at night and haunts their dreams of--you guessed it--them. 

They tell you to not compare yourself to others, but how is it possible to not notice how far behind you are, in everything?

And how is there even a way to catch up? It's easier said than done, but in the end, it's way too late to even start. 

If you have bad grades, a "just study more" doesn't just cut it. 

You don't understand the very essence of what you're supposed to, and there's just way, way, way too much work to study everything in such little context that you are given--in line with all of the other work you're supposed to do. 

And plus, if you have time, most times you're just really, really, really lazy and just don't want to do it. It can just wait, it's really not that hard! (takes 3 hours to finish)

If you are insecure about your looks, "don't worry! It's just high school!" 

Well, yes, we are young, but it just does matter. It just does. The insecurity brings about one's inner cowardly demeanor, and all of a sudden, self-esteem is torpedoed down and one feels the sheer weight of everyone's judgmental gazes, and you're suddenly regretting the food you ate five minutes ago.

On the other hand, what can I do to solve it? 

Do I work on myself, because that's the right thing to do? 

---No! It takes too much time, go study! 

Do I lower my standards? 

---No! They're already the lowest it can go.

Do I just happily ignore the problems?

---No! Everyone else is dealing with it, are you weak or something?

And the repeatedly asked question about the future: What do you want to do when you grow up?

--- Happy. I want to be happy. It sounds so cliche, but it's so cliche for a reason.

The very vagueness of the word "happy" can bring up so much, from marital status to job. I don't tell them a specific position or career, because I don't want one.

Really, a more specific word would be unregretful, but the phrase "living with intention" is too much. 

"Living with intention" would be more like confidence in yourself no matter what you do. 

On the other hand, unregretfulness gives the sense--the connotation--of the feeling that you've done your best and are happy with the results. But the reality is that I want to be under the feeling of regretfulness, you get what I mean?

I try my best to be happy with what I have, but in the end, it's underwhelming--the rotten fruits of your work.

In this, having responsibilities is really so, so hard. People's expecting gazes on me-- I cower at the thought, but sometimes people have to push on. Looking back at the people who raised me--I don't want to pester anyone with anything anymore--or even be pestered. 

Hell, having feelings is so very hard. They mess with you so much.

It's the foreboding feeling where you're not doing enough at all, but at the same time, you're worked to your limit. (burnout, maybe, but you're not even halfway into your life)

It's the trepid feeling when you pour your heart and soul into something you really, really, really want to achieve, and for that fruit to die straight off of the branch. 

It's that annoying feeling where you do know you can do better, but you wish in all your mind to just time-travel a few minutes prior because, unfortunately, we're not perfect. 

Oh, how I do want to be perfect.