It seems that I have bound myself into doing something which does not particularly fill me with joy. How did that happen? I can almost predict how the next three years will run… I’ll go through, never quite climbing above average, perhaps picking up a few good skills. My drawing will improve, perhaps the ‘modern and commercial’ ideas will come a little easier after a while, and I’ll give up trying to make models, masks, draw in my own way. And at the end of it all (if I’m lucky and manage to impress someone) I’ll be shipped off to the tiring, smoggy, overcrowded capital, where I’ll be given a computer all of my very own, and a small workspace, and ten mundane, commercial pieces to complete each day, and no time to do anything else.
Yet. People keep telling me that I’m lucky to be doing what I want to do. There are people who have no A levels, let alone the chance to complete a degree. And here I am, plagued with doubt as if it were an unshakable disease, not knowing what on earth I want to do with my life, and not having the courage, inspiration or willpower simply to get out there and do something. I’ll spend a quarter of the average lifespan in education- and I don’t even know what for.