Tuesday, 2 May 2017

Dear Diary: I haven't gotten it all together

I have come to realize that I am the sort of person who seems to be perpetually under a certain degree of pressure --mostly of the self-imposed sort. There is something inherent within me that urges my being to be more than I can be, that compels me to think that at any moment in time one could always be more than one currently is. I have always been persuaded to consider such a state of being healthy, for it drives an individual from within, even when the external world crumbles apart, out of control.

Of late, however, I have been met with modes that have not been within my own jurisdiction, occurring with a frequency admittedly beyond my liking (rather dismal, really). It is lamentable to have understood this only all these years later, but I cannot deny that I feel at many points the besetting need to have life situations within my own control, so much so that when reality presents itself otherwise I almost always seem to fall into a state of consternation. The mechanism I employ in turn seems completely to abnegate the state of being I am in, and then redirect all my energy into an outlet of productivity, such as work. I suppose this is not the worst senario one could derive, particularly when compared to the devices I had employed half a decade ago, as a late teenager. 

There has recently been a sort of strain that I cannot quite construe. It has a fixed relation to the realisation that senior year of college is fast approaching --the thought of entering the corporate world throws me off slightly, and always has. It is rather outlandish, to think that I have not an inkling where I would be working in the next year. I have always been ready to move, for I never felt a genuine sense of belonging or attachment to any particular country, having spent my formative and developmental years in several. Life has always been an adventure, and the unknown a drug that brings me a certain "joie de vivre", although almost always intermingled with some anxiety. 

What is dispiriting on occasion is the fact that people seem to assume that I would end up "just fine". I cannot deny that if lucky stars exist, I have been the recipient of one too many, having chanced upon golden opportunities and blessed with experiences I would not trade for any material thing. However, I have not the confidence in this moment to say that I would be all right. For in reality, what of the future? One is never certain, and in this moment, I do not think I have ever been more uncertain. I have not gotten it all together, not like people think.

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