2019 - another year flooded with a whirlwind of emotions. Another year filled with memories and opportunities to be thankful for. In fact, this year passed so quickly. A year and a half ago, I was still hanging in ambivalence. Amidst all the great experiences, negativity was all that lingered, mostly. It's always been difficult to justify depressive thoughts when nothing in life was going wrong. Was it all a psychological episode within my subconscious consequent from being relegated from the highs of wanderlust and globetrotting? Or perhaps part of me just sought further fulfilment from things that I failed, time and time again, to achieve - of them all, happiness,
As you can tell from the blog archives that I've taken an extended break from expressing my thoughts. In fact, I'm actually writing this post in 2020 and trying to recover two years' worth of ups and downs and my long train of emotions since then. Yup, this is going to be an emotional rollercoaster.
Words, though, still function as a homeostatic platform of regulating surge of emotions - mostly in the negative realm, I'd say. I mean it's always the overthinking that holds and not the temporary spikes of joy derived from accidentally stumbling upon videos of silly dogs and cats on social media. We just tend to fall victim to the mind. It's a wonderful phenomenon come to think of it. You're literally a victim of yourself.
2018 was an amalgamation of loneliness and confusion tinged with temporary sentiments of positivity. I've had my fair share of travelling (again, extremely grateful) but most moments culminated in surmounting insecurity, inferiority and worthlessness. Too often I would find myself embarking on aimless walks contemplating my existence and searching for justifications to life. My academic life concluded and I was thrown headfirst into the adult world of job searching, constrained by time before my deportation from a city I very much loved back then.
Going for interviews was never my forte. The comfort the mind usually offered as a product of intuitive judging of the interviewers' feedback and their consoling tones often led to dismal disappointments that stretched for weeks which eventually, when coupled with the lack of companionship, which I no doubt enjoy to quite an extensive extent on most days, led to my ideals of staying in a city which I absolutely am fond of and which I considered home being erased slowly.
It's really difficult putting yourself through endless preparation to impress people that expect you to have really gone through extensive amounts of relevant experience pertaining to that job you're applying for when in reality all you have is that tiny shred of faith, through which you're squeezing every bit of luck out of in hopes that you and the interviewer(s) really kick things off and that he/she/they is/are having the best day of their life/lives and avoiding asking you questions that immediately drown you in an abyss of hopelessness with pretentious lies being the only escape route. That, and the subsequent failure, effectively made retarded by incompetent (and retarded, if you would) nitwits that literally have one job and one job only but choose to ignore your staggered emails and throw you into weeks of prolonged anxiety.
Safe, and sad, to say that was how the rest of my 2018 progressed following the culmination of my Master's programme. Definitely thankful I got to study in I'd say a prestigious college as a whole - one I never really thought of applying for. And really, I still relish how surreal everything felt when I first started classes there. A mix of disbelief and pride. Well, history's set in stone and it will always be my alma mater now - something to be proud of in this life. But yes, I guess the reputation of the school never sufficiently elevated my prospects to land me somewhere I'd be happy working in. As aforementioned, the mundaneness and loneliness and constant exposure to failure and having to restart applications after applications from scratch really pushed me to the inevitable: to give up and to bid adieu to the realm of tea, musicals and freedom.
Maybe working abroad was never in my cards. Or maybe they are, but not yet the right time. Who's to know what the future holds?
Nonetheless, 2019 began with my return home where I once thought that after spending so many years abroad, it was a place barren of opportunities for myself and I no longer belonged. No doubt, returning home felt relieving, to say the least, considering the prolonged period of time where I was bereft of social interactions and living through the mundanity of things. There was simply nothing left for me back overseas.
The subsequent months that followed was pretty much the last phase of my life that I had no major commitments and responsibilities except to persist with job applications. To be honest, as weeks and months slowly elapsed, I was slowly being devoured on the inside from guilt and the cumulative hopelessness, yet again, from the hunt for a viable vocation. By then, my defeated self, having been exposed to months of unproductivity and restlessness, merely sought something that would’ve dragged me out of the realm of idleness. And I would’ve settled for anything that could’ve given me a somewhat satisfactory future.