Ugh, Future

I sit on my bed thinking about my future. What is with nights and ruminations? Isn’t reality – day – bad enough? Ugh, the dreaded responsibility of college… Then jobs… And the list of things that need to be done in our lifetime never really ends. And to think that I actually want them despite being an ardent mocker of society’s standards of a “good, fulfilling life.” Look, as much as I’d want myself to be, I am not apathetic about, well, my life. Or the concept of studying, jobs and all that. I’m actually a very concerned human being, sometimes, too concerned that it gives me anxiety. But the problem with me is, I don’t know how to choose a path. I am fickle minded. “Choose something that you’d want to do for the rest of your adult life.” Well, chill, maybe? Or “Choose what you love the most, not your parents or anyone else. And what would give you a stable life.” Well, you had me until “stable life” I don’t think what I love would generate me any cash. “Well, at least, something you LIKE?” I like too many things, my dude. And it’s frustrating. But it’s also like, I like things temporarily. It’s so incredibly easy for me to get bored. As aforementioned, I am fickle. Fickle as fuck. I’ve got at least six directions I’d like my future to take and just that labyrinth is giving me a migraine. I need to sleep. Sorry for the short, lame rant. 


Can’t Make The First Move

Yesterday, I overheard two people at a wedding talking about someone’s inability to approach people. I squirmed because the way they were describing the person’s awkward predicament was so disastrously like mine. I couldn’t be more uncomfortable.

It’s incredibly difficult for me to approach people, to make the first move. And it’s not even about ego or anything, it’s just pure awkwardness and fear of having nothing to say after the introduction or the other person not having an interest in a conversation with me or just the dread of coming off as an utter fool. I know I’m not the only one.

This fear or dread holds me back a lot. I see an interesting group and I want to be a part of it, I want in on the conversation but I think, What have I got to offer, anyway? Besides, they wouldn’t want me to. Yes, I recognise that this dread or fear or whatever it is stems from insecurity. But I’ve seen so many people just swallow it up and make the first move. And I, honestly, couldn’t be more jealous of them.

Then there are other people, those charismatic, charming ones that make it seem so easy, the whole interacting thing. I’m awestruck, and envious simultaneously. If only they knew how many times I have to go to the bathroom, look at myself in the mirror, give myself a pep talk, pass by the person(s) I’m aiming to converse with a million times and finally get myself around to say ‘Hi’. It’s extremely taxing, I shit you not.

More often than not, people completely misread this unfitness in interaction as pure arrogance. They couldn’t be more wrong! It’s just that . . . I would love, love, love to talk to you but I’m earnestly quite shite at it, my dude. You seem extremely lovely, but I don’t think I can match your lovely. You see? These things hold me back! And I will be starting college in a few months. I have no idea what I’m going to do.

So, I listen on in the conversation, hoping that these two people, in the end, provide some sort of extra advice other than the ones on the internet that I try to incorporate but fail to. But all they say is, “I mean, there’s no other option, right? You have to be brave and just go for it, that’s how shits get done.”

I’ll try, dudes, I’ll try.