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August 26, 2011

All delusion is struggle with form


"I don’t think that we’re ever as uninhibited and unafraid as we are when we’re children. When I was thirteen, I was not unafraid, and I was not uninhibited, but I knew less about the world than I do now."
- I think I peaked at age thirteen, Thought Catalog

Love reading Thought Catalog (introduced by sherri's blog, jupme@blogspot, but I doubt she reads this place), smiling to myself sometimes as I do, and occasionally going, this, is the beauty of language. The mysterious power to describe something that I've been feeling all along, but (unfortunately) unable to put into words.

Watching 'homeless to harvard' was a good break from mindless studying, reminding me/us of boundless potentials and blurring the fine line between dreams and reality. It's something that movies are guilty of committing- to leave us feeling satisfied after a movie, yet with a tinge of hollowness. A feeling that goes, 'this is wonderful, but I'm never going to be like that'.

There are doors that close, one by one, as we grow up. When I was young, the world seemed so unlimited, like I could be anything.

I could drive a plane.
I could teach.
I could be an artist.
I could be like my mum.

These were the moments where I saw something and went, full of conviction, 'this is what I want to be when I grow up'. I had no idea on how to get there (I don't think I heard of junior college till secondary school), I didn't think about any of those social stereotypes or material benefits, all I had was interest, and interest alone.

I sincerely believed that anything was possible as long as my heart was in it.

Where have all the dreams gone to? As we take each step nearer to adulthood, we are struck by practicality. We are told things like, 'I don't think you are every good in _, maybe you should try something else?'. We become conveniently dismissed/ forgotten when the teacher goes, 'I know y'all will accomplish great things in life'. We are labelled, segmented into boxes of worth and either (1) worshipped and nurtured or (2) left to have dust piled on.

But the sad truth is that such things happen only with my permission. Why do I let anyone make me feel bad about myself all the time?

I have been the one closing those doors.

I don't want to be disappointed, and have my fluffy, shimmery gloss of this world be trampled on and smirked at. There is so little courage that becomes overpowered by fear; in wanting to strive wholeheartedly but risk everything go to waste eventually. So I stopped dreaming.

I really do want to find those dreams back through, especially to get me through the next fifteen weeks.

"When I was thirteen, I believed that there was actually a chance that my crush would send me a rose on Valentine’s Day; I believed that I’d have a prom date and that prom night would be perfect and fairytale-like; I believed that people would treat me as well as I treated them. It’s not that I don’t believe in anything anymore; of course I do. But now I know better than to believe in fantasy, and maybe that’s the problem." -quote from above

-

With prelims in less than a week, this is going to be the 'make or break it' point.

I am extremely afraid of falling into the abyss of 'this is not even the a levels, I will pick things up by then' mentality because I will not. This examination MATTERS. Has this simple idea completely vanished from my mind since four years ago? Now would be a good time to pick it up.

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