But i see no stars
Life after college graduation turns out to be completely underwhelming.
You get out of university, bright eyed and full of hope, wanting to make a name for yourself. Like a world-renowned author, probably, or a founder of a renowned company. And maybe you will get there someday. But for now, there’s still a long way to go.
Right now, you’re tied down to a day job, working overtime shifts as if the company’s future rested on your shoulders. Every single day feels like a routine, because it mostly is.
You wake up early, get ready for work, and spend the time during the commute catching some sleep, even for just a few minutes, because you can never really get too much sleep when you’re trying to catch up with meeting deadlines at work and having a social life at the same time. Work items come and go, and sometimes you stick around a team for a project that’s taking longer than usual, but all in all, every single day is pretty much the same.
But sometimes there are the little things — your friends, the company club activities, the impromptu dinners and drinking invites. And you think that maybe, it isn’t half as bad as you thought.
Different places, different drinks, different events. But most of the time, the people you spent these days with were the same ones you see in the office, heads lowered, backs hunched and typing away on their keyboards.
This time, there’s a beach outing of sorts. Everyone’s dressed in comfortable beach clothes, not stifled by their usual business attires. You look around and think how it’s nice to see everyone unwind every once in a while (even when they do seem to be overdoing it sometimes). Someone calls you to participate in a game, and you hesitate, but they drag you along anyway. You don’t resist, because you know you’re going to enjoy it more than you try to show.
You’re still young, you know it, but somehow, it’s times like these when you actually feel young again.
After a day’s worth of participating in team building activities and drinking a bit with your coworkers, you already feel tired. You know this isn’t how things ended like when you were back in college, but now you just want to take a step back from it all and rest.
You’re on your way back to your room for the night when you spot your teammate sitting all by himself by the shore, looking pensive. He has his knees pulled to his chest and his head tilted upwards to the sky, like he’s in some kind of trance.
“You look like you have a lot on your mind.” You sit down next to him and he nods at you in acknowledgement.
“Look at the stars. look at how brightly they shine.” He says, in lieu of hellos.
You look up at the sky, squinting for whatever he’s trying to point out to you. You hesitate. “There are no stars — “
“Yeah, that’s how my mind is right now. Thoughts blank, head empty, just wanna yeet myself into the void.” He picks up a pebble nearby and throws it to the sea, where it makes an audible ‘plop’. “Dammit.” he says under his breath. He must have meant to make it skip across the water surface.
You pick up a pebble yourself and throw it to the vast sea — flat and smooth, and angled a bit like how your friends always told you to do it when you were younger — but fail to do anything other than make a small splash with it. You never learned how to do it despite several tries, and at this point, you don’t know if that would ever even matter. “What did you even mean?”
“Just some Millennial talk I picked up online.” He makes a grand gesture with his hand, as if to acknowledge something you were only hoping to understand.
You squint at him. He doesn’t reek of alcohol, but maybe you’ve also drank one too many bottles to distinguish a tipsy colleague from a sober one. “Millennials?”
“Yeah, Millennials.” He repeats, despite himself. You’re about to point out that he’s also technically a Millennial himself, but you hold your tongue.
A stronger breeze leaves you shivering, and you pull your knees to your chest and hug them, almost mirroring his pose. It takes a few moments for you to find your voice again, lost in thought as you stare at the dark sea and the waves crashing against the shoreline. It stops just a few inches before where your feet have been, but it never goes further beyond that. “You never told me why you were quitting.”
He looks surprised at your question, as if he’s already forgotten you were there because of how quiet it’s been, apart from the distant thrum of the music from the resort and the loud, almost comforting crash of the waves in front of you. “I don’t… I don’t really know. But it felt like the right thing to do.” He scratches his nose, suddenly looking self-aware. “Just a hunch, but I guess it’s because I just realized that I’m almost thirty.” He pauses for a moment, like he’s grasping at straws and trying so hard to put his feelings into words.
And finally, when his eyes focus back on you, you know he’s gotten his answer. “It’s not that I’m in a rush to get to somewhere or anything, but I’m not that young anymore to risk things that are mostly just visions without proper implementation.”
He pauses again and looks at you, like he’s trying to remember something he’s always known, but has already forgotten. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m trying to look for some place else that could actually help me grow. Not just a job that pays just enough to get by.” You look away, and focus on your toes instead, suddenly very much aware of how you’ve always felt lost when it came to work because you don’t know where things are going most of the time, and you start to empathize with what he’s saying.
“Actually, can you see that?” You look up at him to see him pointing at his eye. “That’s it.”
You sometimes wonder how this guy’s simultaneously one of the most brilliant minds you’ve ever worked with and the one who also doesn’t make the most sense sometimes. “That’s what?” Maybe it’s just the alcohol.
“It.” He widens his eyes a bit more.
You try to look into his eyes longer, but fail to see anything worth noting. “I don’t even know what I’m supposed to be looking at.”
“The eyes are the window to the soul.. and look at that. So many wrinkles.” He huffs. “This means my window in life is closing. It’s cracking. It’s breaking. Whichever comes first.” He doesn’t sound as particularly bummed out about it as he makes it out to be.
“Well I can still see…your passion?”
“It’s the eye bags.” He shrugs. “One too many sleepless nights.”
“I don’t think you’re old…” You bite your lip to stifle your laughter, suddenly remembering some old dad jokes he’s been saying that you’re sure your dad would love. “Well yeah, maybe you’re a bit older than most of us.” He leans back on his arms, sighing in defeat. “But not that old. C’mon, there are still so many things you haven’t done. So many places you haven’t been to.” You spread your arms wide. “The night is young and so are we?”
There’s a small smile that blooms on his face this time, and you feel a bit proud of yourself. “I wasn’t expecting that from you.” He shakes his head. “Kids these days.”
“I’m 21.” You correct him.
“Yeah, kids these days.” He repeats, finally standing up and dusting off the sand on his shorts. “I gotta go to bed soon though, don’t want to wake up late for the bus tomorrow.” He looks at you, expectant.
You check your watch and realize that it’s already past midnight. You get up as well. After all, you intend to waking up early so you can get dibs on the shower in the morning, because who knows how long it will take for the four other people you’re rooming with to finish taking a bath? “Are you going to go on a spiel about how I just about always end up giving unsolicited advice?”
“I was going to, but this old man’s probably going to bore you to death.” He waves a hand off. He cocks his head to the side, and peers at you from the corner of his eye. “What about you though, you’ve never thought of leaving?”
You pause. You’ve thought of it several times of course; heck, you’ve thought of it at least six times a day on one of those bad weeks.
He follows your gaze towards the wooden, makeshift gate to the resort, where the laughter and the music starts getting louder the nearer you walk towards it. You chuckle. “Of course. But maybe, not too soon. Not yet.”
The words come out naturally of your mouth. Not because it’s one of those well-rehearsed lies you tell your parents like how you’re always doing fine, but because you’d at least like to see where this all goes, for now.
