This week, I was (mentally) slapped on my face; a wake up call. The world is too big, and my seemingly impenetrable bubble is too small in comparison. I need to break out of my shell but I am afraid of stepping out of my comfort zone, which is understandable. After all, nobody wants to fail, only fly. There is a lot at stake with every trial gone wrong, and at my age, failure is not an option.
They say the twentysomethings are lost and confused—add to these all the other adjectives associated with uncertainties. Still, I give myself a mental high-five for coming to terms on who I am, what I do, what I like, and so on and so forth. Knowing all these gives me a sense of pride, direction and more passion to pursue my dreams and goals. But with these realizations only reveal one thing—that it’s still not enough, I am not enough. I am still not my best self and it frustrates me. This is not about achieving perfection nor superiority. All I know is that I can be bigger, better, brighter, if only I would let myself to be.
I may come across as happy-go-lucky with all the funny and light posts in here, but in reality, I am OC to a fault and strict to the core. I punish myself for not achieving that much. There is so much I take against myself—for not coming up with groundbreaking ideas, for not being so awesome at all when girls my age are doing so damn well in their chosen professions, and so much more.
And so I should start making changes in my life to accommodate all changes, ideas, thoughts and everything else that will mold me into the best that I can be. I just have to be a sponge, but I gotta make sure that with every squeeze, I get to keep it in my head for future reference.
Here’s to hoping that I discover, soon enough, that part of me that can really make a difference.