Standing on a cliff...
have you ever had the feeling that you were walking towards a cliff? you have just begun to realize that you were walking towards it, and so you feel scared. you panic. and yet you cannot stop walking towards the cliff, because you've been trying to get there for the longest time. and when you suddenly realize that you don't want to fall just yet, you don't know what to do, whether to continue walking towards the cliff or run away from it.
you're scared, and yet you still continue walking. you are afraid, short of breath. there's nobody to help you, nobody to tell you what to do. you reach the edge of the cliff and look down below. nothing is clear, but you know its going to be different down there.
but there are so many things you don't know. will it be better down there? will somebody save you? will you survive the crash? if indeed you survive, can go back to the place from where you jumped? if you don't jump, can you live with the fact that you didn't? will you stop thinking of the what-ifs? why will you not jump in the first place?
if someone was with you walking towards the cliff, will you ask him to jump with you? what if he doesn't want to jump after all? will u leave him? will you ask him to wait? will you come back? will you be happy without him?
there are so many things to be afraid of, so many things unknown. and yet you find yourself at the edge of the cliff.
what will you do?
Sunday, February 04, 2007
A-little-over-quarter-life Crisis...
I find myself once again here at OM (overlooking Marikina) of the AdMU school grounds. When I was in college, I often came here to relieve myself of jitters, nerves, anxiety and everything-else-in-between caused by the demands of university life: never-ending papers and presentations, terror professors, surviving a real date, midterms, seeing an F, nursing a broken heart, thesis, orals, and all that. Looking over the distant Marikina, with the quiet cemetery very obvious and very bare, I would often count how many McDonalds signs I could find. Knowing that they were always there, relieved me. Yes, it relieved me.
Funny. I find myself once again here at OM. Yet, it is not college life that led me here, for that life has been over for almost 7 years. Now that I am here again, I wish I had those troubles again. After I graduated, I thought that life would be smooth, that everything would go as planned: get a good-paying job, move up the corporate ladder, save money, travel a little, buy a car, help the family, save money, get married and have kids. And yet, I find myself once again here at OM. And I can’t even begin to think what’s troubling me. I fear that if I think it out loud, or write it down, it would come true, it would be real. And dealing with it would cause much distress that I don’t want to face.
I find myself once again here at OM.
Seven years after college, and I am now 28 years old. Two more years before I reach 30. To people younger than me (especially my officemates), I am ancient. I am at the acceptable marrying age. To people older than me, I am still young, independent, and care-free. I feel that I am neither. At 28, I just feel mostly … trapped.
In my mind, I am still very young. I get freaked out at the thought of being married, of having responsibilities, of having kids, of a lifetime being mature. It seems very tiring. And yet, I also feel old. People whom I’ve known since college, or people my age in the office are getting married, having kids, buying houses and cars.
I know I still want to do things on my own: be independent, buy shoes/bags/clothes/gizmos, as well as travel, without second thoughts or guilt, make decisions without seriously affecting another person’s life, get drunk and have a hangover, have chips and ice cream for breakfast, take up an adventure sport or hobby (like diving or wall climbing).
But. But, I know I have to think about saving and investing money, buying real estate, seriously consider the dangers of childbirth during late 30’s (especially that most of my aunts from my dad’s side all got married late, and as a result, had or are having pre/post natal problems), raising a child, growing old alone, or growing old with one person for the rest of my life…
I don’t want to be mature, and yet, I cannot afford to not act my age. It’s like going through puberty once again. I don’t know if I’m a kid or an adult. I don’t know if I should take myself too seriously or not.
Maybe I’m just in this rut because of my state of mind. Maybe my notions of shallow independence vs. marriage are not as cracked up as I think they are. Maybe I can be 30 (or more), and still be youthful. Maybe I can be mature and still have fun (well, clean fun). Maybe it’s OK to go crazy sometimes and make mistakes when you’re over 30.
Or maybe I’m just plain crazy.
I find myself once again here at OM.
I think I need to go home.
I find myself once again here at OM (overlooking Marikina) of the AdMU school grounds. When I was in college, I often came here to relieve myself of jitters, nerves, anxiety and everything-else-in-between caused by the demands of university life: never-ending papers and presentations, terror professors, surviving a real date, midterms, seeing an F, nursing a broken heart, thesis, orals, and all that. Looking over the distant Marikina, with the quiet cemetery very obvious and very bare, I would often count how many McDonalds signs I could find. Knowing that they were always there, relieved me. Yes, it relieved me.
Funny. I find myself once again here at OM. Yet, it is not college life that led me here, for that life has been over for almost 7 years. Now that I am here again, I wish I had those troubles again. After I graduated, I thought that life would be smooth, that everything would go as planned: get a good-paying job, move up the corporate ladder, save money, travel a little, buy a car, help the family, save money, get married and have kids. And yet, I find myself once again here at OM. And I can’t even begin to think what’s troubling me. I fear that if I think it out loud, or write it down, it would come true, it would be real. And dealing with it would cause much distress that I don’t want to face.
I find myself once again here at OM.
Seven years after college, and I am now 28 years old. Two more years before I reach 30. To people younger than me (especially my officemates), I am ancient. I am at the acceptable marrying age. To people older than me, I am still young, independent, and care-free. I feel that I am neither. At 28, I just feel mostly … trapped.
In my mind, I am still very young. I get freaked out at the thought of being married, of having responsibilities, of having kids, of a lifetime being mature. It seems very tiring. And yet, I also feel old. People whom I’ve known since college, or people my age in the office are getting married, having kids, buying houses and cars.
I know I still want to do things on my own: be independent, buy shoes/bags/clothes/gizmos, as well as travel, without second thoughts or guilt, make decisions without seriously affecting another person’s life, get drunk and have a hangover, have chips and ice cream for breakfast, take up an adventure sport or hobby (like diving or wall climbing).
But. But, I know I have to think about saving and investing money, buying real estate, seriously consider the dangers of childbirth during late 30’s (especially that most of my aunts from my dad’s side all got married late, and as a result, had or are having pre/post natal problems), raising a child, growing old alone, or growing old with one person for the rest of my life…
I don’t want to be mature, and yet, I cannot afford to not act my age. It’s like going through puberty once again. I don’t know if I’m a kid or an adult. I don’t know if I should take myself too seriously or not.
Maybe I’m just in this rut because of my state of mind. Maybe my notions of shallow independence vs. marriage are not as cracked up as I think they are. Maybe I can be 30 (or more), and still be youthful. Maybe I can be mature and still have fun (well, clean fun). Maybe it’s OK to go crazy sometimes and make mistakes when you’re over 30.
Or maybe I’m just plain crazy.
I find myself once again here at OM.
I think I need to go home.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)