The period of not knowing. Not knowing what to do, which way to go. Thoughts pouring relentlessly at certain points in time, anything I could think of I write it down while at work, not giving a damn about sentence structure, finding solace in misplaced punctuation marks. Words, they soothe me when the routine gets tiresome and my mind drifts somewhere else far away from here. My superior demands something from me, never truly satisfied but what's new, I am aloof, I don't really do anything. I work less than most people, less than what is asked of me but probably just enough for the pay. Heck. I can do better, I just refuse to believing it's not worth it. I don't love what I'm doing I am lost. I yearn to be somewhere else. You don't belong here, says my alter-ego-- must be the fraudulent one. I go online oftentimes abusing the rotten system and see people tweeting "I'm so tired but I'm thankful." I snuggle in my coat of envy, I am tired but in no way grateful. I am distressed, it's not the healthy kind. I used to say I was eustressed because that's how I felt half a year ago. Half a year ago. How time flies. I engulf in misery thinking things would get better, feeling like I'm coming home to a literally empty house, robbed of everything that's always been there. The responsibility of replacing what was lost is in my hands alone. How could it feel like it happened overnight? The transition is a hazardous curve, I remember everything. I used to sit on the bleachers of the amphi theatre with my blockmates, in an open area half-sheltered by an old familiar tree but still under the scorching heat of the sun, it was my favorite spot. Right now someone else could be sitting there, unaware of the memories we left, where they will someday make their own. I was spending time with my boy best friend and got mistaken as a couple by psychology majors conducting a survey for their thesis, we screamed eww in sync followed by laughter that eventually died down, a story worth retelling. Memories. Spending breaks at a nearby bar, walking to PE class drunk, reeking of beer and secondhand smoke. Attending parties to get incentives from profs, like it had anything to do with academics. Only in DLSU, they say. God, how I miss that place. Staying up until 3am worksheets spread all over the dining table, too much for my average-sized study table to handle. 2 hours of sleep to prepare for an 8am class. I was lazy but still engaged because I was in love with it. I loved college. Everytime I walked into the south gate, I was amazed at the feeling of belonging. It always felt like the first time. That's what my boss says when he's at work, but when I'm at work it always feels like the last time. Like I can never last another day in that cellar. Light-years away from how I felt in my previous work. That was the calm before the storm. This storm that is happening now. What happened now? Quarter-life crisis. Letting go of your youth slowly and abruptly all at once. Bills to pay. Getting the wrong job, knowing it is void of intellectual challenge, pressure only to be ceased by persuasion and proper assessment of people. Is it assessment or judgment? I believe it's the latter. I can't grow from this. I drag my entire body gathering what's left of my strength to wake up in the morning, to survive, rather than live. Why do people get such bad jobs. I want to do business with barely enough savings. This unquenchable thirst for personal growth. Start anew. Thinking of getting a high-paying job to pursue further studies without having to leech from my folks and then finally put up my own business or get married a few years from now? We all have to start somewhere. But where do I start?
Tell me, where do I start?
Tell me, where do I start?
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