I SUCK AT WRITING. The previous sentence just proved itself.
Rather attributing the reason to the small number of novels I've read, I'd place the blame on my poor vocabulary and extraordinary ability to tangle fanfictions with Shakespeares.
My mom told me once, after attending one of the many seminars on various topics that have nothing to do with boring day-to-day life (maybe that's what motives her to go), that your writing skill could improve if you write a paragraph every day.
It would be a miracle if anything I write derives from apologizing, complaining or rattling useless words. As it is, the fact's true about everything that needs perseverance. That rocks can be drilled through with water, mountains could be moved with one man's strength. They all need perseverance, and they're all miracles. With the same logic, I finally understand why my room can get messy by itself, why I sleep from two to eleven every day, why there ain't one field I can state myself as accomplished, which is the same case with anything I've tried or claim I like.
Miracles just don't happen to muggles! Forget it, your owl got didn't get sucked into an airplane with a letter from Hogwarts because your name was never on the list!
Another interesting observation of my habits is that I never work unless under some sort of supervisor. However, when my supervisor does his/her job too well, repeatedly reminding me of my task, I'd get irritated, the program in my head linking the problem to the supervisor. What's the lousiest of all, I then complain about all the pressure that Mr.Life-millions-of-people-are-also-going-through puts on the shoulders of a poor seventeen-year girl. "It's too much! Why is my life like this? What should I do?? Arghhh..."
Duh, the reason others are chasing after your tail is that you lack the motivation to do anything reasonable without being chased.
Thus, I've just proved what adjective is best at describing life: not "trying" "empty" nor even "sucks" (is this an adjective?), setting aside the fact that I've used the last one for my Wechat personal description.
The correct adjective is ironic.
Life is ironic.
Look at how beautiful those three words are, with one "i" in every three letters.
Taking my mom's advice, combined with my contemplation above and summer-vacation boredom, I've decided to pen down some drifting thoughts occasionally.
Now I've finished this, I'm going back to not doing anything worthwhile, being chased by the tail, and complaining about it all.
