I’m confused. I hate being confused, not knowing what’s next, not knowing what should be next or even what I want to be next. I like knowing where I’m headed, having a plan, organising it and going over it in my head until the plan is projected onto the inside of my eye lids. If I close my eyes, I want to see my plan. Uncertainty is not good, having too many uncertain options makes my head ache. The state of confusion is one of the least popular holiday destinations in my brain and I journey though it as quickly as I can.
I have to make decisions. I hate making decisions, making choices that can affect my entire life when there is hopefully so much of it left to affect. There are some things that you can’t turn back on, or if you do, their effects do not completely disappear. Choosing what to wear to school is hard enough, and I have a uniform! Whose crazy idea was it to give teenagers the freedom to think and decide for themselves? Did they not realise the detrimental effects it would have on them? The stress? The anxiety? The moaning blog posts?
I have to listen to people’s advice. I hate listening to people’s advice, not because I don’t want or need it, but because I never know who to listen to. I hate not knowing who to listen to. When I give up trying to make those decisions, because I am confused and the uncertainty is giving me migraines and making me age faster, the people who I go to for advice all tell me different things. Some just tell me what they think I want to hear, others don’t give me a clear decision (do what you think is best) and the rest are more prone to changing my mind than I am! Nothing is more infuriating than being told to do what makes me happy or to follow my heart. My heart is no co-operating, it’s too busy beating.
A lot of hate for one blog post, don’t you think? No, I am not getting married and no, I am not blowing things out of proportion. If it makes it more credible, replace ‘hate’ with ‘highly dislike’.
I highly dislike applying to sixth forms. I highly dislike not knowing which school I want to go to. I highly dislike waiting for replies. Funnily enough, I quite enjoy going for interviews. I find it fun to talk to a stranger about myself and for them to at least pretend they are interested. However, that does not make up for my dislike towards the rest of the process.
So far, I have applied to five schools. The Royal Mail sent me back one application because it didn’t have enough postage. How was I supposed to know that stamps had different values or that you would ever need more than one? They don’t teach you such important life skills at school. I have received one offer and I do not highly dislike the school, neither does my mum, but my teachers advised me not to go there because they know of a few students that did not do as well as they expected.
I have also received a rejection, not in those exact words. They decided not to give me an offer, which is a diplomatic form of rejection. I am not fussed by it, it just means one more off my list. Another, probably my first choice, I will not hear from until April and even then, I have heard a few horror stories about it. Then, lastly, I applied to a grammar school with exceedingly high grades, which even if I do get accepted to, I may not decide to go to because the atmosphere does not seem very friendly and I do not want to spend any more years in a girls’ school. I’ve had enough of female ‘bitchiness’ as my mother calls it.
See my dilemma? I don’t know what to do. People are not telling me what to do. I am a teenager. Choices should be reserved until adulthood. Life should have a rewind button.