priorities
Priorities - that's clearly a word I do not understand when I have a tonne of homework and yet I decide to spend my time blogging about it. I have been too active recently and neglecting portions of my life such as work and stuff. I don't know - there are too many things currently that just makes me want to retreat into my hole of self-content to hide from the fact that I am actually very discontented with many things currently in my life.
I guess it is the perfectionist me who cannot stand my life just falling into shreds. Being a great debater, or one that stands a chance at winning, or being that friend whom my friend can come to - which clearly isn't the case, or that student who gets his As. It isn't one single thing that determines your worthiness in life or for some people - studies, that defines my life, but when they all come together: my life isn't that great anymore.
I try to make up for it by going crazy on material goods but they don't seem to plug that hole in my ego or self for that dash of satisfaction. The only thing that I'm left with is that stink of procrastination and the postponement of the inevitable.
I use to find motivation to work very easily and motivation to do things in a clear-cut fashion - meaning if I were to slack I would just ignore it and face the consequences like a man. Yet, now, it just feels as if everything is in a mash. I act on impulses before chickening out slightly or regretting my decisions because I am not ready to face the consequences. This is disconcerting.
Regardless, I have come to the conclusion that it is hard to make new friends and sustain your old ones. Everyone seems to be just drifting apart and I guess that's why we want that gathering so badly, all of us. I feel for what Kelvin is saying and he probably feels it more acutely; new friends are hard to make because they are unpredictable and you don't get that sense of familiarity with them; and yet you no longer get opportunities to reconnect with old ones.
All that you're left with is the feeling of being slightly alone. It isn't the acute loneliness that melodramatic writers like to talk about but the little and slight loneliness that keeps you detached from the world, the knowledge that no one friend can be your friend forever or that no one friend can really be your friend. It is that knowledge and that slight loneliness that intensifies every single feeling. I dread the train rides home alone because music in my playlists make me sad, regardless of what the sounds and lyrics are of. It merely insulates, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
Damn that overactive imagination, albeit often proven true.
I guess it is the perfectionist me who cannot stand my life just falling into shreds. Being a great debater, or one that stands a chance at winning, or being that friend whom my friend can come to - which clearly isn't the case, or that student who gets his As. It isn't one single thing that determines your worthiness in life or for some people - studies, that defines my life, but when they all come together: my life isn't that great anymore.
I try to make up for it by going crazy on material goods but they don't seem to plug that hole in my ego or self for that dash of satisfaction. The only thing that I'm left with is that stink of procrastination and the postponement of the inevitable.
I use to find motivation to work very easily and motivation to do things in a clear-cut fashion - meaning if I were to slack I would just ignore it and face the consequences like a man. Yet, now, it just feels as if everything is in a mash. I act on impulses before chickening out slightly or regretting my decisions because I am not ready to face the consequences. This is disconcerting.
Regardless, I have come to the conclusion that it is hard to make new friends and sustain your old ones. Everyone seems to be just drifting apart and I guess that's why we want that gathering so badly, all of us. I feel for what Kelvin is saying and he probably feels it more acutely; new friends are hard to make because they are unpredictable and you don't get that sense of familiarity with them; and yet you no longer get opportunities to reconnect with old ones.
All that you're left with is the feeling of being slightly alone. It isn't the acute loneliness that melodramatic writers like to talk about but the little and slight loneliness that keeps you detached from the world, the knowledge that no one friend can be your friend forever or that no one friend can really be your friend. It is that knowledge and that slight loneliness that intensifies every single feeling. I dread the train rides home alone because music in my playlists make me sad, regardless of what the sounds and lyrics are of. It merely insulates, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
Damn that overactive imagination, albeit often proven true.