I won't even mention the length of time I've neglected this blog. I’ve no excuse for the absence of updates. I simply lacked the will to write. The fact is that nowadays, I just don’t want to think anymore. The more I do, the more I realize what mistakes I made – and how inclined I am to repeat them.
I make no promises about increased awareness of this blog’s existence. I cannot ensure that I find the discipline to compose an entry. There is no guarantee that my resolve will bring enough courage to overcome my apprehension over what else I may discover about myself.
I can’t seem to feel anymore. No anguish, resentment, grief, misery, and despair. No contentment, fascination, gaiety, and joy. It seems I can only ever feel boredom, indifference, and purposelessness.
I’ve driven myself into a rut where I seem to be irreversibly convinced of life’s futility.
I pray everyday. I’ve gone to Mass five times this week. I’m trying exceedingly hard to find a reason, a GOOD reason, to put up with the vanity of the present and the bleakness of the future.
I wasn’t born for this. I wasn’t educated for this. I don’t WANT this. Yet this is what I seem to be destined for. I cannot accept this as my life. I must not allow this to be my story. But I know what can happen if you attempt to alter fate.
So I’ll go along with the ride. I’ll finish the four years. Then, if it be God’s will, I bear my cross for another four. After that, there will be three more years of tragic laboring. And then, maybe, just maybe, MY dream, the one I chose to ignore for the sake of scholarships and parental relationships, I’ll have a chance to pursue it.
The thought that, in 11 years, I can at last engage in the studies that I actually possess interest and zeal for is the lifeline that keeps me from drowning in what feels like somebody else’s existence.
Labels: Ateneo please
