Month: July 2020

I have been losing my appetite.

I cannot finish my food because they taste like nothing. Bland. Empty. Tasteless. I am eating for the sake of eating; there is no enjoyment in my meals. I dread breakfast because I have to wake up earlier to eat when I could be spending that extra bit of time sleeping. And then I have to do the dishes. And then I have to get to work.

I am feeling that subtle, melancholic emptiness. I am feeling that lack of purpose. I am feeling that dull pain in my heart, a dull pain that bothers me sufficiently enough to hurt me anyway. I am lost and in need of answers, but I don’t even know what are the questions that I have.

I just… want to feel secure? I want to have my emotions sorted out. What are all these emotions? I don’t even know how to describe some of them… but they weigh down on me all the same. Is it this whole work-from-home thing that is slowly eating at me? Going to “work” every day in my own room and finishing a 9-week internship completely at home, having physically met absolutely no one in my department? Next Friday, I am going to return my office equipment and head back to school… but yet I don’t even know what is the shortest route to get to office from my home? I don’t even know how tall my colleagues are? I don’t even know where they sit in the office? Heck, I am a big introvert but this complete lack of physical social interaction bothers me. In the future, it would be hella weird to tell someone that I did a 9-week office internship having never worked in the physical office. But this is life, throwing you a curveball out of nowhere and forcing you to scramble around for your own answers.

Or is it this guy who can never take a hint? How can someone be so blatantly ignorant? Must I really block you to hammer home my point? Can you not take an implication? Or is it her that is taking a toll on me? Why can’t I figure her out? I usually pride myself in being able to read people quite well — but why can’t I read her no matter how hard I try?

I worry that I am becoming a little fake because maybe I have been pretending to be happy and carefree and forcing out the whole “I don’t give a shit” attitude for too long. But I give a shit. And I am too scared to have people see that. I am too scared to have people see that I am vulnerable about things as trivial as… whatever the hell this is.

But I have faith that this will end. And I will be happy again so as to go on another huge blog hiatus, as I have done for most of 2020. I notice that this blog is mostly pessimistic, and not a great judge of who I actually am. But supposedly, people only come and read this if they are bored or curious enough because I don’t publicise this blog to anyone, even though I don’t bother keeping it a secret either. So I don’t actually care that much about how people may judge me based on this blog. I have kept this blog for too long to delete it now. I have 8 years of history and growth carefully documented in this blog that I bothered to pay a personal website domain for… this blog is here to stay, for good.

I just… I just want my appetite back.

This blog has seen better days. I created this in 2012 pledging that I will finally sustain a blog, after having previously created around 5 blogs that ultimately failed to last.

But this one has, because 8 years later, I am still writing in it. But the content is a lot different, and I’m not deleting my older posts because they are good for nostalgia. Even though I cringe a lot when I read my older posts. But it’s ok, we’ve all done cringeworthy things when we were younger. In fact, I may look back at this post in the future and cringe at this post. Aha.

8 years is enough to see a newborn turn into a Primary 2. Enough for a Secondary 1 to turn legal adult age. 8 years is a lot. But yet… it feels so little. What have I done these past 8 years?

I started this blog when I was Secondary 2, and soon I will complete my formal education and head into the workforce. Slowly accepting that my childhood has whizzed past, and never going to return. I am growing up, and it’s happening regardless if I’m comfortable with this fact that I’m no longer a kid. I still want to be a kid. But you don’t always get what you want.

I don’t really know what’s the purpose of this post, except maybe to bump this blog alive. If I’m paying $40 a year (is that how much I pay?) just to have my own blog domain, then I should at least write something to justify the costs.

Wow, I am tired. It’s tiring to shoulder responsibilities. It’s tiring to have to always be accountable. But that’s a new norm I have to adjust to. I am weary. But I will not give up.

Does this sound like a quarter life crisis? I wake up every other day in existential dread. What’s this? A weariness that sleep can’t cure?

Probably need to get more sleep, because my internship is wearing me out. This post made no sense. Sorry. Why are you reading this?