Crossroads

by Kimberly Ang

At night I sit in my bed alone and try to make sense of the endless thoughts that plague my mind. I wished all the imagery, the unceasing random words, the lyrics of songs here and there that hold so weighted words would form a bit picture clear to see. Perhaps someone bigger than me in the universe could tell me where I’m headed, because it seems to me like I am just walking around in circles. I don’t really know where I’m headed.

The people around have really got me thinking, where am I headed in my life, and what do I want in my future? They seem so determined with their other halves, declaring to the world that their other halves are set in stone, for sure this person will be my “in sickness and health, till death do us part”. T and I love each other, we really do and we’re in it for the long haul, but at 22/23 and thinking that “this is the one” scares the living daylight out of the both of us. We’re young, why do we have to decide now who we’re going to spend the rest of our 60 years with? When I thinking about my (future) wedding, all I think about is the kind of dress that I want and how poofy the skirt is going to be. T just thinks of kids. The truly scary thing about a life-long commitment really is disappointing the other person, and I am so afraid of being a disappointment without a way out.

I can’t help but feel sad at the years I’ve lost, and the demands of growing up creeping up your shoulders. I have not done enough stupid things to know that I should not be doing stupid things. I have not done enough things without overthinking the consequences because God knows I do that more often than not and it just makes me what to tear my hair out and get drunk. Which leads to more overthinking. It’s a vicious cycle.

This was only the beginning of a long heart to heart talk and the least of my worries as the night drew longer, of which I missed the last bus for in hope to have my distraught  feelings extracted out of my like a weighted ball of mess and have them lay on the table to be analysed. I really did become distraught when the topic of our career paths surfaced, because it really is a cringe-worthy topic of discussion. 2 years ago I was so excited about my scholarship and entering Physiotherapy. Nowadays school is just a long drawn torture of endless lectures that no longer simulate me but leave me asking why. Not really questioning that was thought but rather why am I here anyway. I guess being jaded is part and parcel of life, at some point we fail to see what intrigued us in the first place and begin to accept things the way they are because it’s merely expected of us.

I’ve always wanted to be a writer, a journalist, From back in the days where I had my ruled notepad with two columns, formatted just like articles would, writing for a non-existent school paper. It progressed on to creative writing in school, to English Literature and argumented GP essays, I love it all. A place to penned down what you believed in. Going back to the sciences kind of killed the creative spark in me, but recently I’ve been discovering that it just dimmed to almost nothingness. Honestly, writing a research paper just shames writing in itself, because facts are not facts juts because it is scientifically proven. Facts are facts just simply because you believe it to be true, and while it may not be a universal truth, it will always be a truth you hold for yourself, and that is what matters.

I guess what I took out from tonight with T and from my all amazing Chow is simply that you do the things you do because you love doing it, and it should be enough, even if the whole world ignores what you do. I guess even if the little bit of my soul is put out here to be ignored, it’s still put out here and it’s freer than it would be inside of me where I’m trying to stifle it, at best. Most of the time it just grows into an angry, green mess of a monster that threatens collateral damage.

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