idiotic me

Is it just me? Why is it that to me, words and pictures make more sense than random Mathematics equations that teachers just tell me are laws and rules? Though, to tell the truth really, English is struggling too. I really shouldn't have picked English Language. But all these subjects are interesting to me. Not the calculations but rather, the applications. I wish I could find something- anything really that I was good at. Really good at. When I was young I wished to excel at one thing and not really any others. But yet, with the onset of having to choose a life career when one has no personality, it really seems impossible. I'm not the only one that feels that way it seems. Nevertheless, a possibility could be that I am simply lazy, a possibility in which I can fully understand. But can you tell me how you can stand putting your head down and writing line after line of numerical squiggles which worm themselves away from you till you're left wondering 'What is it that I am doing?' How does one do that? How does one discipline themselves into- that. How can you stand it when you see the sun blooming behind the slats of your window? Or when you imagine a million, literally a million, not figuratively, things that you'd rather be doing? Wouldn't you rather taste the colours of the rainbow? And here I'm not speaking about eating skittles, but instead drawing endlessly playing with the texture, the shape and form of these objects that gently appear on the page that I'm only just starting to get a glimpse of. But no. My thoughts have to be strung, cohesive and orderly. There is method in my madness.- Or at least- I tend to try imagine so. Or hope so. Or pray so because I wouldn't be able to stand it if there wasn't.

Or think so because parallel syntactical structures are cool like that.