Why am I an unsuitable candidate for a given position?

For as long as I can remember, I used to maintain a journal – noting down bits and pieces, now and then. Today, it has become more than difficult to even write a sentence. I often go back and question myself whether I am even capable of writing anything anymore – whether I ever was. I wonder why my friends want me to help them with their essays – especially, when corporates and schools easily shortlist theirs and mine get boxed in piles of rejects. How does one proceed when characters stop talking and fingers cannot move anymore? Paper parchments remain dry save for that blot of ink, which never really shaped any letters. My mind keeps questioning. And my heart, it keeps droning – it will come back, all of that talent that people praised me for and that one thing, I had one day, long ago thought, I was good for. Now, I judge my plot lines to be broken, characters to be shallow and sentences too long. How do I go on like this? Sorrow should inspire me to write, and joy should bring out the mirth in my stories. I can spin no more yarns, for they all end up in knots. Look how lazy I am. To bring accolades, I write about my laziness.

I have browsed through my Facebook feed, checked Whatsapp twice. Can anyone believe that it is after one am? I still expect people to be constantly going about their social media activities, while they should be sleeping. I do have all the excuses. How does one go on like this? So, I am an internet addict who does not post anything on social media but does keep checking all her accounts constantly.

In school, I was a devoted student, reading not just my text books but others as well. College converted me so much that all I read is random shizz on the internet. Newspapers, often remain unturned and classes unattended. Very few professors knew me by name and by the end of the final year I never even made the effort. Do you see how the tone of this piece (if we can call it that) has changed? I told you, after a point of being fruitless, I leave everything to nothing. Also, like I mentioned before – nobody hired me and nobody enrolled me.

Creativity is definitely not my forte and I have a difficult time wracking my brain to be original. If you want me to give you my introduction, I’ll probably tell you my name. And everybody knows how boring that is! And if you want to just talk, I have a few topics – weather, places to eat at and how to screw up conversations. See?

For example, I wanted to take up running. I did run between a few sport stores to find running shoes and then, zilch. I thought I would take up yoga – puked on the yoga mats three days into the program, and never saw the hall again. So, right now I cannot be called a fit person. I boast of ugly double chin, open pores on my dull skin and a paunch, which precedes me every time I enter a room.

Going ahead for me is like going two steps backward – every time. I do not want to edit and I definitely do not want to write. I want to sleep all day, roll on my bed, put my feet above my head, watch YouTube videos, not interact, eat chicken and prawns all day long, and did I say sleep? I am not editing this and I am not finishing this. Lazy, I told you so and the utter procrastinator!

A/N – This is to all the statement of purpose I have ever written and wondered what it would be like to write the opposite.



  1. At most of the parts, It was my own story. I want to do things but I can’t, the writing bit – sometimes no ink spill from my pen and if some manages, it looks good enough for a second then it is all trash. All the time.

    I want people to read my work and then I think why do they bother, because it is trashy and immature, I’m not sure I would read it myself.

    There are things I aspire to do, Im trying so hard for them but the fear is constant that I can’t. I want to cry, it is like I am setting myself for failure and I do it anyways. I’m extremely afraid that I’ll be nothing but a disappointment to those who love me, most of time I believe I’m just that. I fear that life will pass me and I’ll be nothing, every moment I live in these fears. I’m not sure how to be positive. How to defeat them.

  2. My dearest Dee, it’s not fair that almost everything I’m reading here is making me cry. You, my dear, have a way with words.. Your writing is brilliant because it comes straight from your heart, a very, very golden heart too, slides off of the page, or screen in this case, and enters your readers’ hearts in a way that’s truly special. And believe me, I’m speaking the truth. We are all amateurs here but as a humble CW student who is just beginning to learn, if there one thing I’ve learnt from all those classes, it’s that writers should unabashedly be who they are, stripped clear of affectations and embracing their own self with all its warts and all. They should not be afraid to express honest emotions and thoughts that erupt spontaneously from their heart. And these points are exactly what I find in your beautiful pieces here. I find my writing so juvenile and sappy compared to what you write. So yeah, I beg to differ but creativity is definitely your forte ❤️ And I wish I could give you a big, big hug and tell you ( as someone who has a few years on you) that everyone goes through phases like these. It’s a part of life and the best part is that they don’t last 😊 Sending tons of love, hugs and prayers your way…and wishing that you keep shining and keep smiling always 🤗

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