I Am A Walking Quarter Life Crisis
I am sad upon hearing some things today, but it will be a good challenge for me. There are lost grounds to be recovered, and my very flawed self to improve upon.
Self-validation and self-esteem and talent can only carry one so far. That is, not so far. The rest is capriciously sitting on the whimsical perceptions of others and some good luck. The good news is, what I can work on and control, is my reaction and response and my character, and that may make all the important difference.
I have been infinitely lucky to have your goodwill. Thank you for being kind and frank. You, whom I respect professionally and hold in very fond regard, have spurred me to run this marathon harder, faster, and better with your honesty and friendship.
*
I can feel the tears welling up and I choked back a sob when I heard April’s familiar voice on the line. Can’t really talk, I whispered, because I might cry. And that, would be an utter embarrassment if it happened right there and then. Thankfully I managed to fix a time to seek refuge in her place, to talk and to think things through, and to have that little weep.
Just thinking about today’s happenings on the train journey makes my eyes moist and seeing April meet me at the station makes me want to whimper too. But happily, I resisted successfully. And by the time, we were at her place, I simply cannot conjure up or induce the tears. But that’s okay. It may be a very, very rare sighting but April has already seen a weeping willow me once before, about 2.5 years ago. I had collapsed into an incoherent blubbering mess at Parco, combusting within 5 seconds, from perfect composure. The first and last time that I was so distressed.
I am a walking quarter life crisis. Always have been, ever since I graduated. No doubt about it.
Once again, I found myself exposed to the demonic elements of despair, self-doubt and powerlessness which I thought had been exorcised. But apparently not. That was just me being naïve.
I’m so tired of hearing myself spewing such negativity (it’s not even profound) but I can’t fucking help it.
But why, April, why, why are we losing our dignity and sanity and integrity only now? Shouldn’t school prepare their students for such traumatic loss, that all that was exalted was just a sham. The real world doesn’t care about your aspirations, or value your outspokenness. And it spits on your talents and feeds off your youth and ideals. It wants to pin you down, flatten you and then crush you completely to feel better. And is it flattering yourself to accuse it of being insanely jealous (insanely so because WTF your position is fucking unenviable lor) and madly domineering?
April says we should be grateful at least we had had the time of our lives during undergraduate days during we had enjoyed respect as equals amongst peers and professors, that we had done what we loved, in studies and in er, ECAS. It’s something to hold on to when the going gets tough (and we can’t get going).
Oh fuck. I am a walking quarter life crisis.
Time to go shopping.
Self-validation and self-esteem and talent can only carry one so far. That is, not so far. The rest is capriciously sitting on the whimsical perceptions of others and some good luck. The good news is, what I can work on and control, is my reaction and response and my character, and that may make all the important difference.
I have been infinitely lucky to have your goodwill. Thank you for being kind and frank. You, whom I respect professionally and hold in very fond regard, have spurred me to run this marathon harder, faster, and better with your honesty and friendship.
*
I can feel the tears welling up and I choked back a sob when I heard April’s familiar voice on the line. Can’t really talk, I whispered, because I might cry. And that, would be an utter embarrassment if it happened right there and then. Thankfully I managed to fix a time to seek refuge in her place, to talk and to think things through, and to have that little weep.
Just thinking about today’s happenings on the train journey makes my eyes moist and seeing April meet me at the station makes me want to whimper too. But happily, I resisted successfully. And by the time, we were at her place, I simply cannot conjure up or induce the tears. But that’s okay. It may be a very, very rare sighting but April has already seen a weeping willow me once before, about 2.5 years ago. I had collapsed into an incoherent blubbering mess at Parco, combusting within 5 seconds, from perfect composure. The first and last time that I was so distressed.
I am a walking quarter life crisis. Always have been, ever since I graduated. No doubt about it.
Once again, I found myself exposed to the demonic elements of despair, self-doubt and powerlessness which I thought had been exorcised. But apparently not. That was just me being naïve.
I’m so tired of hearing myself spewing such negativity (it’s not even profound) but I can’t fucking help it.
But why, April, why, why are we losing our dignity and sanity and integrity only now? Shouldn’t school prepare their students for such traumatic loss, that all that was exalted was just a sham. The real world doesn’t care about your aspirations, or value your outspokenness. And it spits on your talents and feeds off your youth and ideals. It wants to pin you down, flatten you and then crush you completely to feel better. And is it flattering yourself to accuse it of being insanely jealous (insanely so because WTF your position is fucking unenviable lor) and madly domineering?
April says we should be grateful at least we had had the time of our lives during undergraduate days during we had enjoyed respect as equals amongst peers and professors, that we had done what we loved, in studies and in er, ECAS. It’s something to hold on to when the going gets tough (and we can’t get going).
Oh fuck. I am a walking quarter life crisis.
Time to go shopping.
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