Universe, you win. I give up.

I've been trying to 'make it' as a journalist/correspondent/writer/whatever in Cairo for the better part of a year now. I've seen many people find their way in journalism here. Some of them definitely deserved to do so, others not so much.

I've seen people that can barely spell become news assistants at big global magazines. I was there when a Korean girl, that didn't even know what the job title meant, became the prime news correspondent for her country. I know another girl, that didn't even know where Tahrir square was, that was offered a position as a news anchor for a well known tv station.
I've seen photographers with about a week of editing experience under their belt rise up to be the deputy managing editor for a daily newspaper. I'm not a particularly good photographer, but I've witnessed plenty of people with as little or even less talent than me get signed by agencies and pay their way through living in Cairo.

I won't even mention the major press agency editor that keeps lamenting how long his hours are and how much he hates his job because of that. It's like complaining to a starving African child about the disappointing quality of the gourmet organic pizza you had last night. Something with salt and wounds. 

All the while I was (and still am) standing on the sideline practically empty-handed. I've sent (and re-sent) dozens and dozens of job applications and I've lost track of the number of ideas I've pitched. I can count the replies I've ever gotten on two hands. There must be a parallel universe full of rejection letters that never got to me.

How come these people all got their break and mine never came? I don't know and I'm worn out from trying to figure it out.

The only logical conclusion I can come to: I must suck at what I do. I must be a poor writer and a crappy journalist. There is virtually nothing in this world that I think I am good at, but I thought I was good at writing. I guess I was wrong. I must have seen something that clearly wasn't there, like one of those sad people on talent shows that are convinced they can sing, while the mere sound of their voice breaks windows and kills kittens. People always laugh at them behind their backs. I'm sure plenty of you are gloating now. 

I don't like quitters, but in this moment I'm going to be one. Simply because I don't see the point of trying any longer. I've been trying to get on what was apparently a backward-facing camel for too long. I can't do it anymore. I'm tired. I'm done. Universe, you win. I give up. 

I have until the end of the month before my current lease ends, so I have some time to ponder what the hell I'm going to do with my life. Whatever is next, I'm pretty sure it shouldn't involve a pen or a keyboard. 

I always like to end my posts on a humorous or thoughtful note, but right now I find it a little hard to smile and I don't really have anything deep or meaningful to say about all this. I failed, and that's hard to swallow. I'm going to need some time to process my failure and get my mind back in a happier place. 

See you at the end of the tunnel, wherever that is.