Last year, around this time, I found myself travelling to Reed. I came with family, a whole bag of expectations and my scattered wits. This year, I arrived with baggage and a deep-rooted tiredness.
I'm tired. Hollow. I know this feeling won't last.
But what will?
This uncertainty is killing me. I barely know who I am, let alone who I will be.
Yet, everything seems to hinge on this. My future, my present, my life is centered on plan after plan. Which is more economical? Which is the smart thing to do?
Sometimes I feel like I'm deeply flawed. Desperately missing something human.
Shouldn't I feel a calling? Sometimes I feel worthless, unworthy of what I have been afforded.
And I do know I have been afforded quite a bit. A family. A life. A good education.
Yet, where are my ambitions?
I think somewhere along the way, I've lost myself.
To the logic of the situation. To what is expected of me. To my moral obligations.
And I hate that.
Sometimes... I confuse that with hating myself.
Here's to plodding forward one day at a time, and moving past this.
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