"A teenager sits, alone with only his thoughts to keep him company. Perhaps he will begin something, initiate a creative process, but it is inevitably destined to failure. He has no purpose, his animating force is, as yet, undiscovered."
England's not cold. People always complain about the weather, and 'British weather' seems to have been accommodated in the dictionary under the definition: 'See 'Sub-Zero Monsoon Season''
But that's harsh. Okay, I concede, in comparison with places like southern Spain, north Africa, anywhere near the equator, it's bloody inhospitable.
This brings me onto a point. Life isn't comparative. There isn't a big book of people, with your name between it's pages and an enormous list of ratings regarding every aspect of your everyday actions.
Essentially, don't look at yourself in the shadow of others. There will inevitably be somebody who is recognised for their ability, their understanding, somebody who you look at and you think: "That's what I should be like. He's done something, he's good at something."
What a depressing thought. It's almost like saying that being yourself isn't a good enough thing for you to aspire to. And if you then consider that we are all subtly different, the rejection of your individuality is a sorry thing indeed.
Anyone can do something, and anyone can be someone.
What other people see you as is unimportant in the grand scheme of things. Of course, it's nice if you feel appreciated, if you feel that people understand you, that people like you.
But nothing's more important than feeling that you are who you are meant to be, and no matter what sense of accomplishment you may receive from trying to be somebody else it will never compensate for an inherent sense of having betrayed you own gift of personality. Because although you can try to be someone else, nobody can ever truly be you.
Incidentally, I'm 17, grey eyed and brown haired, British, thoughtful and expressive in writing: in case you were wondering.