Today, I can write the worst lines because that is how I feel about myself. Well, not my whole but a good significant part.
I dread the nature of my work.
I thought that at the moment I start earning, I can ignore the description of whatever I do for a living. (Not that my work is something illegal) But I was wrong. I thought that movie lines on hating work was only applicable on big screens, I never understood those lines until now.
One’s work is one’s character, I now learned. And it is important to love your job not because we try to be ideal or optimistic but because it is our lifeline; more than financial, it is our emotional and mental lifeline.
The “real world” that they told us back in the university is more like Wonderland and we, the fresh graduates, are Alices. The reality is so real that my consciousness rejects it.
Working just to earn is like dating a guy for the wrong reasons; dating for his cash, car, and charm sounds so cool but at the end of the day when I lay down on my bed, the silence creeps in and it makes me hear within. There, I hear breaking, not of bones but of beliefs and suddenly, I realized that in me is an empty hole that needs filling and the worst part? I don’t know how to fill it. Because the university had no syllabus for this kind of shit.
I don’t even know if this emptiness has a rim. Am I going to quit and find a different path? What if something great is bound to happen if I hold on? What if holding on means letting go of my ideals and morals? And as I lose my ideals, I lose my self.
It is at this moment that I wish I could turn back time and stay in college a little longer to try to figure out a concrete plan on how handle this deep drama on metamorphosis of being an adult.
Me 