I know this might sound like the typical teenage story, but since I only have one life and don’t know how others deal with these things, I’m going to share my situation, in the hope that, hopefully, someone will read it.
I’m 19, and this year everything has gone downhill, though I guess it’s a culmination of the previous years.
To start with, two months ago I broke up with my girlfriend; we’d been together for two years. At first, it didn’t hurt that much for some reason, since the reasons it ended made sense (nothing serious—we’d just changed and weren’t as compatible anymore), but now, after all this time, I’ve gotten much worse. I have trouble eating, I hardly sleep, and I can’t stop thinking about the life I could have continued to have. I don’t want to go on and on unnecessarily because I suppose this is a more casual situation than I think it is, but wow—she was a very special person, with tastes and a personality that meshed well with mine. I loved her intelligence, and I think finding a woman like her will be difficult.
As for my studies, they’ve been going the same way as the previous two years. From a young age, I was diagnosed as gifted in all academic areas; everything came very easily to me, and since I’m a bit of a slacker, I managed to get top grades until I was 16 with almost no effort, even advancing to the national rounds of physics and math competitions. But when it came time to continue my studies, I chose something a bit unusual: the International Baccalaureate (IB), an extremely challenging program that prepares high-achieving students in subjects like physics, math, and chemistry. The problem is that I was never really drawn to the sciences—I’m more of a humanities person—but I chose it because I desperately needed a change of pace and, even though it sounds bad, to be able to study with people who were “on my level” (pardon the expression). But then things went downhill. I chose not to take physics the previous year, and that seriously set me back—I lacked the theory and understanding of the most difficult subject of all, and combined with my extreme struggle, I can say those two years were hell. Every day I’d wake up at 6:00 AM to catch the 6:48 AM train, and then wait until 8:00 AM. I slept very little back then because, aside from the abnormal academic workload, I refused to stop playing sports since that was my escape. The only positive part was that I met my ex-partner there, and that made things much more bearable. I’ve just finished my first year of college—nothing to write home about. It’s been hard for me to make friends since I’m new to the city and my program is almost 100% girls, whom I’ve always had trouble socializing with. To be honest, my roommate has been a lifesaver. Now, for reasons I don’t understand, I can’t seem to accomplish anything academically. I’m passing my classes, yes, but I don’t understand where that version of myself went—the one who used to reach the final stages of tournaments and get good grades. I miss making my mom happy. I received “criticism” for choosing a liberal arts major after passing the IB, but to be honest, there wasn’t any future in the sciences that appealed to me. The problem is that quite a few people—and with some justification—criticize me for not pushing myself to study the sciences, given my aptitude and the enormous effort I’ve put in over the last two years. Sometimes I give in to doubt and wonder if they’re probably right; I’m not quite sure if I did the right thing or not—it’s a mess.
As for sports, which had been my refuge for so long, this year has been bittersweet. I wanted to push to stay at the club where I’d rediscovered my love for soccer (I’d previously been at academies that were top-tier for the area, but all that competitiveness ended up burning me out), but the problem with that was the commute and the lack of training, so my coach was able to contact a club near where I live now and arrange for me to train with them (I trained with players from a division called “Nacional”—it made me very happy to see that I could train at that level). The problem was that after a few months, I suffered a string of injuries and all that hard work went down the drain. I should also add that this was my final year of youth development, and now I’d have to find a new club—and I don’t think I’ll do that. In short, I’m extremely upset about having to give up a sport I’ve been playing for 15 years—it’s no longer just a hobby; it’s part of my life, and I hate that it’s coming to an end.
Finally, since this is so long and I’m truly grateful to anyone who’s reading it, I feel like I’ve really let myself go these past two years—or so I think.
Before I started dating my now-ex-girlfriend, I found myself in a situation I’d never been in before—girls were noticing me. I changed the way I dressed and let my hair grow out; I also lost some of my fear of talking to girls more. I managed to hook up a lot, but I was never looking for anything serious until I met her. After these two years, I realize I haven’t improved my style of dressing at all—in fact, it’s gotten worse. I think my physical appearance has also gotten worse. Obviously, I’m not as fit as I used to be, but beyond that, I see many more flaws than before—flaws that either weren’t there or that I didn’t pay attention to. I really don’t like my face, and I don’t think it’s possible for me to be as attractive as I used to be. I haven’t tried for obvious reasons, but I find it hard to pick up girls again.
Maybe these are just my own issues and my own problems, but I’m having a really hard time dealing with them. There are also a couple of other things going on, like how little I’ve seen my real friends during this time, or how a relative of mine recently died of cancer. I know these aren’t minor details, but I don’t think it’s appropriate to dwell on them.
Thanks to whoever has read this—if you have—I appreciate it. Any comments help.
Best regards, and I hate nostalgia.