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Introspection...or something


Sometimes I feel that i am staring down a barrel of my own making.

There is only a blurred light on the other end, and nothing else to see.

Or at least that's how my career prospects seem. Many people give me that 'Where did it all go wrong?' would know the one if you've been stuck so tightly in a situation like mine. It's that sudden dull expression...the complete relaxation of the facial muscles, as they utter a slight 'Oh...'

Sometimes they have that expectant look still on their face. Sometimes  I wonder if they think that I'm joking at that precise moment.

I believe it all went wrong when I decided that I would 'figure it all out later'. Soon enough, I found myself in the career counsellor's office, an exasperated expression plastered over the face of a clueless teenager who just wanted to run away and think about it...later. 

But no, I could not run. So I gave them an answer to silence them.

Back then I believed that I was not quite ready for mistakes. I was terrified that I'd make the wrong decision and waste away the rest of my existence with deep regrets. Little did I know that what I just did would create its own world of pain.

I wasted the following six months at another institution. Already in the first week of the course, I felt like an outsider. An imposter. Someone who was never meant to be there. Still, I swallowed my fear and pushed on, trying to prove to myself that I could succeed. 

I didn't.

First it was the fear, then it was the incredible pace of the course. Then it was my patience whittling away to nothing. I stopped living. Food barely made it onto the table. I never went outside anymore. I barely kept myself alive and slept at the uni out of exhaustion from staying up so late. I was out of mind. Out of habit. Out of life.

Then I had a mental. I was surprised, at just how out of control I could be.

And then I admitted defeat. It was a hard thing for me.

I returned home. Picked up my gloves. Worked my hands to callouses. Lost three kilos without even realising it. I was back to being me. Whatever it was that had plagued me was gone.

I get roasted in the sun, and it'll likely kill me in a few decades, but I felt comfortable . I still do. But I am still asked that question. People still expect me to pick everything up and leave. Truth is, I don't think I would survive it for long.

It makes me wonder sometimes...will I ever feel free from the judgement of others?






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