Fear of future and the cynicism that increases with age

I’m coming from a place of disappointment, hurt and rejection right now. I’m accustomed to praise of my writing skills, but I applied for a paid blogging position at the University I’ll be attending this year and didn’t get it. Journalism, which is what I want to do for a career, is a seriously competitive field and I need any leverage I can get, so I had my heart set on this blogging role. I also don’t know where I went wrong, as I was quietly confident in the sample blog post I submitted and thought it was up to the standard of previous bloggers’ posts I’d read. It just makes me anxious that I won’t be good enough to cut it in the industry, and I’ve overestimated my abilities.

I’m also worrying a lot about how I’ll stack up against other students in my first year at University. Throughout school I’ve been known for being a good writer, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to maintain that status this year. With all the private-school educated and highly intelligent people around, I can imagine getting really down on myself as I won’t be anything special. Coming from mid to low decile schools, I fear I’ve been wrongly encouraged into a writing career because I seem talented in comparison to those demographics, but that I won’t succeed in landing a job in the real world after University.

It may sound snobby, but I love being the best. I was always chosen last for anything sports related, couldn’t wrap my head around maths or science and was extremely socially awkward throughout school – especially during Primary School, so writing was the one thing I had over my classmates, who otherwise would barely acknowledge my existence. I was a bit of a ‘wallflower,’ I suppose, observing but never participating in the typical antics of other kids. I didn’t manage to come out of my shell until high school, so hid in the safety of reading and writing. In primary school most of my happiest moments revolved around winning writing competitions, or being praised for my literary skills, as I didn’t have many friends and wasn’t talented in any other areas. Writing was something I found easy, which let me escape into a world where adventure, unicorns and happy endings reigned. It allowed me to be more important than that quiet, awkward girl with no friends, who deep down I despised. I was Georgia the writer. It gave me an identity and confidence in myself that is now slowly slipping away as I gain a more cynical, worldly view, lacking in the rose-tinted ideals of childhood. Is it so wrong to want to hang onto that optimism and self-assurance?

I don’t expect to be given success on a silver platter, either. I read fiction daily, follow bloggers, keep up to date with world news and write – on average twice a week. There’s nothing I’d rather do for a job than fill pages with words that inform and excite my readers. I want to share stories of important issues affecting people all over the world, especially in war-torn countries and regarding human rights topics. It’s what I’m passionate about; but I don’t want to be one of those people who think they have talent, when in actuality they’re mediocre and nothing memorable.

So there you have it. My biggest fear at the moment is being average. First world problems, right?


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