To be more
“You’re 22; you don’t have life figured out yet.”
I despise how my reality is extremely disparate from how I’d envisioned my life would be.
People always say it, “You should be thankful for the things you already have. You’re just too idealistic. Do you know how many people wish to be in your position?”
I revolve around people who constantly raise their eyebrows whenever I talk about self-fulfillment.
Do they understand the struggle that is to go to work everyday, doing the same thing repeatedly which does not even exercise the brain? They don’t. It’s enough that bills are getting paid. It’s enough that I get to drink a 200-peso-worth coffee often. It’s enough that I get to book flights a few times a year.
Do they understand my desire to be of value at my workplace? No, because at least I have it easy. I get paid accordingly; and really, this is the life I chose. I don’t get to complain about a choice I personally made and that without the influence of anyone.
Do you see? I can’t get to be more because my life situation does not allow me that much choice. I can’t get to be more because my ambitions are deemed absurd by people — people close to me no less.
I just hope that someone out there is more like me… because I have not encountered one who thinks as much as like me. It’s frightening to think that all of the people around me are so averse with my idea of self-fulfillment. They think I regard myself highly just because I believe my brain can do more. Sad thing is I can’t invalidate that notion. I am not able to explain myself even if it saved me.
I am hopeless and regressing.