24 April 105
Upon hearing of my anxiety attack two nights ago, all my friends have advised me to write. To take up a hobby, to jog. I know they are right. Killing my thoughts with Modern Family marathon and crying endlessly haven’t done much for me. So this is my attempt at verbalizing my messed up thoughts.
I am writing. And it’s hard when every line I want to type is a rant against my present circumstances. Every word is etched in despair, every letter a product of all the tears I’ve tried at first to hold in, but failed to. It’s hard because all my words have been drowned in tears I’ve needed to release in the past week. Everything about me right now screams of desperation and stress, in levels unprecedented. Every thought occupying my mind is beginning to sound like a complaint against the God who I still, in my heart of hearts, believe to be a good and almighty God.
I’ve done so, so much thinking about my thesis already. It’s been keeping me awake at night, and it’s been keeping me from waking up before noon. It is all I can think about. Sometimes, I have a hard time breathing from all the stress and anxiety. Thesis is literally giving me claustrophobia. Taiwan, right now, feels to me like one big prison I just want to escape. It certainly didn’t start off this way, and I know it shouldn’t end this way, either.
I’m not even in the mood to write. I guess thesis really has broken me. I’ll write later.
As weeks rush past, more and more of my conversations with highschool and college friends center around career paths and job decisions. At first, it was fine. It was easy to say I was taking a break. Sometimes, I replied that I was still considering my options. Occasionally, I joked that I was waiting for the results of my Big Brother Audition. And then I got tired of getting asked about what I was doing with my life. So I took a short break away from everyone, and the next thing I knew, the whole world had become a working people land.
And then I realized how pathetic it was that I was still financially dependent on my parents and not moving on from that foggy place of bumhood. Not surprisingly, every conversation ended with a resolution to finally close my bumlife chapter.
Unfortunately, it’s a looooot harder than I thought it would be. It’s been more than a month since I first handed out my resumes and application letters. (Sidenote: I must be the only UP Diliman ChE graduate unable to get a job offer within a year of graduation.) I thought I was strong enough to handle the hazards of job-hunting. But I realized otherwise when I found myself crying tears of frustration and self-pity yesterday.
I’m here, in my favorite place in the world, my hometown, Tuguegarao City. It’s 35.5 degrees today and the sky is a perfect, cloudless blue. It’s the prototype of my favorite day. But the urge to say this has never been stronger: Life sucks.
*Feeling down today but talk to me again in a week and I’m sure I’ll be over myself by then.