I am a fraud. Fake.
Everything I've been doing lately has been one big lie. One big joke.
Only, I've made it a big joke to try and hide the lie. But, the lie is so freaking big...I can't hide it under humor any longer. So...yes, I am a fraud.
In the past couple of days, a few conversations have really made me question who I am and what I do. And from those conversations, from what people have commented on about me and my life...it seems like they all walk away from me thinking what's the point? So I ask myself...what is the point, really? I'm starting to think they're all correct.
I call myself an English Major. Why? Well, aside from the obvious fact that that's how I'm registered with Oakland University, I don't really have a good reason. I'm an English major because I enjoy literature and writing. So what's the big deal? The big deal is that whenever I tend to talk to someone about my studies, I get the feeling that they just walked away from me feeling stupider than they did before they started talking to me. People have made it perfectly clear that I am not well read. I never seem to know what other people are talking about...because I never seem to have read whatever novel or short story or poem or essay that they are discussing.
At this point, I can't decide which is worse...having all the English elitests look down on me because I give English Majors of the world a bad name, or the non-majors looking down on me because even they always seem to be well spoken, damn near eloquent, and well read...far more so than I. All I know is both kinds of people make me extremely nervous...and unsure of myself.
Seriously...coming into contact with them make me doubt my capabilities of ever being good at anything I do.