I've recently come to the conclusion that my main talent in life is talking about myself.
Now, by that I do not mean "I'm not good at anything that matters!" or "I'm so in love with myself that I hate myself for it!" I just appear to feel the very most in my element when I'm either blogging, making videos, working on reflective essays, or writing in first person. While I'm far from skilled at expressing my feelings verbally (I tend to throw around "I don't know!" a lot when confronted with personal questions, because the part of my brain that processes emotion appears to be quite distant from the part that formulates my speech), I will say that I fancy myself somewhat introspective and at least beyond proficient at expressing transcendental concepts through writing. Of course, correct me if I'm wrong; you're the objective ones here. But that's how I see it.
So that sparks in my mind a rather pressing question*. How does one make a career out of talking about herself? Also, how does she manage to find things to say about herself once she's out of school and living that inevitable apartment-for-one life of Spaghettios and utter boredom and loneliness? Why is she receiving a multi-thousand-dollar education when she will forever be numerically illiterate and is likely to work at Barnes and Noble or something until she dies at her computer screen, in front of an unspectacular, unfinished, unread novel?
But really, with all melodrama and nonsensical stream of consciousness cast aside, what about this talent of mine is a talent? How is it at all marketable, or even worthy of having? For years, I've prided myself on being relatable to my fellow teenagers, and that knowledge has been enough to make me feel like these self-reflective internet hobbies are worthwhile. But... in six months, I will be twenty years old. Perhaps I'll always be an adult who better remembers the pain and fun and torture and awesomeness of adolescence, but I'm about to be an adult, and I can't expect to hold on to this intangible Relatability forever. And that's scary.
I don't know. (Ha, see what I did there?) There's no conclusion to this, no point to be made. It's just late at night-- 1AM, at that time when thoughts tend to roll at a faster pace than one can comprehend them-- and I thought I'd open a blank blog document and see what spewed out of my fingertips. If you have any input to provide at all, I'd be very grateful. If not... I feel you.
Chipotle burritos this year: 11
Nail Color: "One Perfect Coral," Revlon