Like the majority of the population, after finishing secondary education, I proceeded on to Sixth Form to Study four A-Levels: Geography, I.T, Classic Studies, and Sport and P.E (I was forced to choose Sport and P.E… they may as well have held a knife to my throat).
From day one, it was great! I was finally going to study the subjects I wanted, step closer to the career I dreamed for, finally learn about… about what? Learn about how I would be stuck in work until I was 70? Contributing to a government that near forces you to work the second you can speak, up until a point where you can do barely anything at all?
No, that wasn’t me. I wasn’t suggesting that I didn’t want to contribute to society, quite to contrary, my grandmother raised me so well, and sadly she required care from a government funded care-home, so I felt it my duty to put back in what I reaped. but I didn’t want to contribute in a way that degraded the human life.
Now, any job is good, no matter how degrading. Don’t let those “above” you say otherwise. If you’re getting up day after day, working hard so that you may live, then that’s something to be proud of.
I’m forever getting on a tangent – my bad! So, I started sixth-form, a met some new people, and at the same time, made the most embarrassing mistake of my life so far (this I will never disclose, as I don’t want you to die from laughter). The lessons began, and it was great, especially Geography. There was no more R.S or learning about a city I’ve lived in for 21 years in History, no, it was just the topics I wanted to study – well, all but one.
But just as all was going well, something happened. I wrote a story. Just a story, you say? Yes, a simple, 750 word story. Not much, is it? Well, picture this; a young man of 16 writes a short story and believes it to be rubbish. Of course it is! Who on Earth would disagree?! Well, it turned out that a lot of people did – they loved it! They believed I had a talent for writing. My hopes were inflated like a bubblegum balloon. I immediately began writing more; a new idea! A bigger, better one! Longer… much, much longer… a novel!
Alas, it went to my head. I wrote day after day, well over 2,000 words per day, dreaming about reaching the end, holding up my novel in the air like a cliche Tennis Player at Wimbledon. I’d never been so happy… until I got called out of my Classics class one afternoon. I’d fallen behind… really, and I mean really f*cking far behind. Without knowing, I’d skipped the months needed for revision for exams, which were next week.
Struck with panic, I did all I could: stayed behind until 5pm, pulled all nighters, begged for help from friends, and even contemplated deleting my entire writing document out of sheer rage.
Alas, it wasn’t enough.
I failed absolutely every exams that was stuck in front of me. U, U, U and U. I can’t describe how low I felt at that point. It was like I’d just found out I was just a figment of someone’s imagination – but far more fabulous.
It’s hard to say exactly where I went wrong. I was a smart young man, but I believe I was just too tempted. I refused to accept the idea that I needed a backup plan, an education to support my writing. Now, I have next to no education, and have little motivation to write for fear of making the same mistake again.
I’d like you take something from this overly long blog. Just one thing: to think; you’ll be faced with God knows how many choices where one option is better than you other, but just take a moment and think. Is it the best choice? Are you going to be safe should all fall through? If it does, and you’re not prepared, believe me, it will ruin you/