An Essay Concerning Human Understanding

Has anyone ever found themselves on the brink of inspiration, feeling like there is something just about to get here, some breakthrough, of idea, or something productive, in any form? It feels like you know something is there, something wonderful, yet it hasn't hit you yet.
It's the most frustrating thing in the world. Almost painful.
I have this idea for a story, possibly a future novel. I just haven't identified it yet.
I'd be walking in the halls of my school, and I'd see something that I feel like no one ever sees, yet it occurs every day, and I'd get a wisp of the idea. A tiny glimpse.
But then it's gone.
I almost feel lost without this idea, like I don't know what to do now, without this...thing there to help me.
Help me with what?
Cope, possibly. Cope with the transition from a school that didn't give a shit for ten years; to one that piles ten to twelve hours of rigorous homework on you over the weekends, and expects you to deal.
Cope with the transition from a school with so many people who accepted you for who you are, because you grew up with them, and they knew you; to a school that, when you give a sliver of your true self to, they shun you, consider you as another one of those kids who doesn't know what to do with themselves in the future, one of those kids who isn't driven enough and will probably drop out of college, if not high school. One of those stupid little kids that only get in their way of success.
That is not who I am. That is not what I want to be thought of as. But when so many people misinterpret your raw self, the one you want to be known for as, the shine of the class, the one that rolls with the punches, the one that is generally always happy, and there for you, and reliable, and everything wonderful of the world all in one person, they think you are just trying to be popular, and automatically associate you with either the stupidity of the world, or as a poser, or as fake.
I am not fake. I may not always be generally happy, but I try to be so, to change myself, to change others.
I don't know how to get my point across to those people who think that. And that is hard. Suppressing myself for eight hours, it's suffocating. And that suffocation is drowning my creativity. Drowning my precious idea.
And I can't cope well with it.
I feel like I have no ambition, but I can feel it there, lying dormant. I have to force myself to work hard, to understand my lessons, to look forward to life after high school. After college. After I get through this part of my life.
But without ambition, looking forward, working towards those beautiful ideas, it's painful. I feel empty. Hollow.
I feel lost without me. Without my ambition. Without my ideas. Without my life.
It took me forever to put this all together. It's December, and I started losing my life around the third week of September. Four months of this life, my life, gone. Dissipated. I'll never get them back. And I wasn't even aware of it.
I have another (at least) three-and-two-third's years left of this life, this lack of it.
I don't know if I feel any better after becoming aware of it.

Don't get me wrong, school is great. I enjoy learning. It's essential to the continuance of humanity.
But without ambition, without my ideas, without me, learning is difficult. Feeling like you're drowning from the lack of your life makes learning almost feel unnecessary. Which is dangerous.

This is what I'm thinking now, as I stare at the blank page of my CTA Documentary narration script, due next week.
Having no ambition, no ideas, having no life, makes it difficult to breathe life into an otherwise lifeless subject. How can I make my words dance? I recall a time where I used to be able to, quite easily. They flew off the paper and made patterns with each breath they took, and elegantly settled into the minds of those who heard them, spreading ideas that initially started with my own.

I miss my ideas. I miss my life.

JezzFezz