Disclaimer: This post content contains unadulterated thoughts of a person in her early twenties. Long read too. See if you can make it till the last.
I recently turned 23. I have been living outside of my home for 22 months and still counting. I have celebrated two birthdays outside of my home. Two entirely different birthdays. On my 22nd birthday I clearly remember being excited and thrilled to spend the whole day with my best friends and roommates even though I missed being with my family. On 23rd birthday though, I had literally made a list of what I actually want to achieve in life and had turned jittery about reaching the mid of my early twenties. Both the years, I hid my birthday from Facebook. I am not good with social interactions and I didn’t want people to wish me just for the sake of the notification.
The level of retrospection hit a whole new level from the day I turned 23.
I ran a recap of one year.
So many things hasn’t changed.
I am still procrastinating. I’m still being an exhausted pigeon. I’m still putting ellipsis to all my well-balanced goal planning which prevents execution. I’m being passive aggressive. I’m still disorganised. Literally being an inactivist sometime.
So many things has changed.
I’m slowly realizing the importance of saving money juxtaposed with the realization that I should spend on whatever I like* (*Conditions apply). My indecisiveness is vanishing slowly. I have started to trove treasured moments with the people whom I find special. I know I cannot stop time and I cannot also waste it.
Life had always given me intermittent bumps from which I learned that my ride to the destination which is ultimate death should be well-balanced.
I’m not going to ride a smooth highways road always neither a narrow bumpy road.
To be well-balanced, I need some dose of inspiration. Yes, that’s all you need to perk you up, make you work, jazz it all up.
The way I see, inspiration is everywhere. I’m able to discover it. But the impact it has in me is either short-lived or zero. There is an invisible pessimistic force beam engulfing me from inside out, I feel.
I feel sometimes that I am given only blips and flips.
I feel like quitting what I do sometimes.
I feel I’m not experimenting enough. I also feel I’m not risking enough. I’m bored easily. I feel like it’s been ages since I have sat down and done something for hours which I later felt proud of. Something self-pattable.
Zilch. Nada. Nought.
Social media is equally scaring as it is helping.
I see so many pictures, quotes and vice relating to how I’m and they ace it in handling the crisis.
Getting in and out of rut had become my forte now.
Who the hell I’m ?
What do I wanna do ?
What am I capable of ?
What do I wanna become?
As my hunt for the answer to the questions continues I stifle yawning because somewhere in Denmark someone thinks I am active and attentive in the “planning meeting” whereas I’m busy planning when to go home and write about this blog post in my journal.
Last but not the least, when you really wanna be you that’s when you don’t know what you wanna be and I think it is okay. Because one day or the other, you are eventually gonna figure it out or things will fall in its place by itself.
~ © 2016 Shruthi Jothsana ~