i used to be so good at writing strong, thoroughly-researched, thoroughly-edited essays.
as a kid in hs, my teacher literally came up to me, holding my 40 page essay on the intersection of the European witch hunts and capitalism/exploitation/gender roles (it was supposed to be 7 pages...whoops) and went like "this is literally a master's-degree level thesis. what are you doing?? you could literally use this as your final dissertation in a master's program, what the fuck."
NOW??? NOW?? you'd think I'd be oh so skilled. but alas. i can barely piece together two ideas. adhd skill-regression is so so real. im SOBBING
I was younger. I was in primary, younger years, probably yr 2… or 3
I was always a gifted kid. I was going to a club of other gifted kids in my school. Fun. We walked up the stairs and then somehow ended up in a scary rickety staircase. Apparently the club was at the top. The only other girl from my class was a girl, also very gifted who we are going to call S.
We walked up the staircase to the cool gifted kids club. It seemed to be all years.
then one.
by one.
kids started dropping off.
we were all walking in a straight line, and the staircase would rot under their feet and they would fall. Or they would fall backwards. I can remember kids falling through the stairs very vividly. And oh my gosh, I didn’t care. I walked up the scary stairs and didn’t seem to mind kids were dropping off. Me and S were the only ones left. Nearing the top.
Nearly there. I was behind her. I think I knew.
I fell down. I can remember S hopping up the broken stairs to the top, the only kid left for the gifted kid club.
"gifted children" are not necessarily gifted... sometimes kids just get a burst of development in certain areas, and it evens out and stagnates over time. its just how some people develop, you are not "failed" because of it.
am i more productive at nighttime or am i so choked with responsibility and duty during the day that my free time is now only ever available to me when in exchange for a sacrifice of tomorrow's wellbeing? (because apparently revenge nighttime procrastination is an actual thing??)
I don't understand how I could devour at least three large books in one sitting when I was in fifth grade but now I struggle to read just one page of any of my favourite books
me: I hate that I can never focus on books or reading, I need to go to a cabin in the woods with a stack and not be disturbed until I finish, there’s nothing like the feel of a paper book in your hands and the smell of an old, well-loved favorite and even the chunks that fall out bc you’ve read it over a hundred times and the binding is fragile books
me when the Wi-Fi goes out: böōōkš ?? never heard of her
you're falling behind in everything, deadlines creep closer whilst depression has long settled in. you're breathing quickens, it's just anxiety so to ease it you procrastinate because escaping your reality is all you can think of be it by getting lost in a novel, a movie or show. whatever will temporarily make you forget your own worries. you catch a glimpse of an old picture of yourself on the wall. the brilliant little girl you once were glares back at you in disgust. "what have you done to yourself" the potential you used to have thickens the air around you, your breathing quickens, it's just anxiety. every minute of everyday the little voice in your head whispers you're not good enough, just give up, you're a failure and all you can do is listen and internalise it. where did our perfect little girl go? says your parents, they don't know she died a long time ago. take a deep breath. focus. you can do this. you used to be so much more.
But I do want to study so I can be a doctor just so I can show to people I was not useless and I made it! Even if it was not on the first try I did it! I got a degree in medicine.
[VIDEO ID: A sketched figure, labelled “me now” looks to the side with a worried expression on their face. They say, “You don’t have to be perfect or exceptionally great. You don’t even have to be GOOD”. The scene changes and it shows a slightly younger-looking figure labelled “teenage me”. They look angrily off to the side and say, “But I do.” They point to themselves. “I have to be all of those things all of the time”. END ID]
He was so fragile at the end of the day, like any human, but you won’t get that impression when you first meet him; he will do anything in his power to fool you and paint you a world where only he can be king.
phoebe bridgers is for the burnt-out adhd eldest daughters who feel like a small part of them is breaking into a hundred thousand pieces whenever they drive down an empty highway in the middle of the night
the thing is, i'm pathetic. you'll watch me try and try again and again and still be a hopeless novice. you'll grimace with embarrassment when i fail again and again but continue to try and win. and the thing is, i'm pathetic, in the way that i'm a try-hard wannabe who's not really that good at anything at all. but you'll watch me, with pity, as i finally manage to achieve something average, and you'll watch me, as you're about to lose all the patience you have (or maybe your patience is already lost), as i succeed.