Broken Dreams and The Brink of Depression

It was unexpected; but somehow, I have expected it. Although it hurts, especially because it happened when I'm beginning to believe.

After just a few days, I have lost my part time job. According to my manager, the boss doesn't even want to pay me because I don't know how to write. How they ended up with that conclusion, I might never know. Issues on keywords, and they willingly disregard the fact that I spent sleepless nights writing those 27 articles. I know I'm not perfect, but I can say that my articles aren't that much different with the sample they sent me.

I couldn't tell the manager; but of course, I'm disappointed. More than on the American boss, I'm more disappointed and furious at myself. This isn't the first time an American questioned my ability to write. This isn't the first time that they accepted my sample article and then end up criticizing me and refusing my works after I worked hard enough.

Right now, I am at the brink of depression. My manager had been oh-so-supportive, putting me in his first priority whenever he needs a writer for his tasks; but twice it happened, and I concluded that something must really be wrong... with me.

I know people have different preferences, but it frustrates me so much that I couldn't exceed the expectations people have of me. It's not just in writing. It's also in life. I always tend to be the ordinary and plain Jane in everything I do and it bothers me so much that I have once again lost my chance to prove myself - to myself - that I can be someone better.

They say that things happen for a reason, and I believe in that. It's just that it's so depressing to think about the dreams I've formulated when I started believing that maybe, I have developed into a good writer already. It all came crashing when the manager told me the news. Just when I thought that the family will be able to get through our finances well through this part time job, fate proved me wrong.

As I write this, I am beginning to realize that maybe, I really am not meant to be a writer; and I don't really have the right to dream. Because everytime I do, things always get fucked up.

Six years I've been writing for a living and I still get this kind of criticism. I know I'm just letting it get into me in a negative way; but I just need to blurt it out. I asked for advises and tips from my workmate and she generously lent me her time and knowledge.

I can't blame the American boss, nor my manager; nor anyone else for this matter. I can only blame myself because I couldn't work hard enough to improve.

There's no other choice now. I've got to go back to step one and learn. I didn't have proper training in this field, yet this is the only thing I know. If this gets taken from me, or if I decide to give this up, I would be nothing. Well, it's not like I'm 'someone' today. It's just that I'll be much of a wimp than I am now if I discard this one talent (if you could consider it that way) I have.

I need a break. Tomorrow is St. Pedro Calungsod's feast day. We'll have a heart to heart talk. Because I badly need help.