I think about what I have to show for my year of post-grad life.
Honestly, it’s a bit of a sad, stable mess.
Immediately after graduating with my Bachelor’s degree, I was the best man in my cousin’s wedding. I completed the task, wore the tuxedo, wrote the speech, and stood. But the extra mile was not taken. Flattered by the offer to be the best man, I gladly agreed. But whether I deserved to be such an important part of his life is a separate issue. I could have done better.
Then, I lived out a summer undergrads dream of: the summer of no immediate responsibilities. The only summer of my adult life during which I had no concern for finding a residence or registering for classes. Homework loomed not. Conversely, I was able to take the work ethic and interests that I picked up in school and pursue my own interests, instead of ignoring them to focus on assigned work. However, my potentially wonderful holiday quickly spoiled.
I became lazy. I became weak. I became tired. I became worthless. I became bored. I became uninteresting and uninterested. I became a failure. I became indecisive. I became very very sad. I became a waste. I became envious. I became nothing helpful. I became a failure. I became a lazy in a race. I became sleepy in a midterm exam. I became confused and dry-mouthed in an important interview. I became emotionally sensitive. I became a failure. I became tired. I became weak and uninterested and uninteresting.
I did nearly nothing I planned to do.
I accidentally got a full-time job after eight months of awful freedom. I’m still there, daydreaming, wondering if my life will change.
Who will love you if you are too weak and sad and awful?
What? This can’t have been written recently.
What’s up?