When one comes to think of it, what really is being successful?
Being in the last year of college, worries and fears are crawling up and making me realize that the real world awaits. A series of What ifs bar my mind whenever I think of the future. I guess the prodigy of 'Follow your dreams' is somehow overrated, though I am a keen believer I do not know if I can do the same.
Hell, how can I, when I still haven't concluded on the avid topic of What exactly is it that would make me happy! I somewhat lack a dream right now. Although I have other dreams, related to the work I do, which is mostly AIESEC, to establish the fact that I am good at what I do. But what exactly is it that I wanna do?
Last night was a reminiscence into the past. Again. Though it is so painful that I hate going there. The direction in which my life is steering right now feels okay. I feel okay. Not happy, not too sad. Okay.
How much more could I take? I have no answer. Like my best friend said, how much more can life push me? And more importantly, till what limit will I fall and rise?
Its good to fight. Its good to stand alone. Its good to see people thinking, wow, she's strong like a rock. But somehow I wonder, being strong has lead the world around me to believe that nothing can shake me down. I am afraid that a breeze could shatter me right away. But.
Yes, the admission that I am going to need someone is pretty obvious and frequent these days.
But.
Land me somewhere where I am happy, a prayer, as always. Enough.
Being in the last year of college, worries and fears are crawling up and making me realize that the real world awaits. A series of What ifs bar my mind whenever I think of the future. I guess the prodigy of 'Follow your dreams' is somehow overrated, though I am a keen believer I do not know if I can do the same.
Hell, how can I, when I still haven't concluded on the avid topic of What exactly is it that would make me happy! I somewhat lack a dream right now. Although I have other dreams, related to the work I do, which is mostly AIESEC, to establish the fact that I am good at what I do. But what exactly is it that I wanna do?
Last night was a reminiscence into the past. Again. Though it is so painful that I hate going there. The direction in which my life is steering right now feels okay. I feel okay. Not happy, not too sad. Okay.
How much more could I take? I have no answer. Like my best friend said, how much more can life push me? And more importantly, till what limit will I fall and rise?
Its good to fight. Its good to stand alone. Its good to see people thinking, wow, she's strong like a rock. But somehow I wonder, being strong has lead the world around me to believe that nothing can shake me down. I am afraid that a breeze could shatter me right away. But.
Yes, the admission that I am going to need someone is pretty obvious and frequent these days.
But.
Land me somewhere where I am happy, a prayer, as always. Enough.
4 comments:
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I am impressed--especially with your biography (including the AIESEC). You are at that crossroad of life--where Frost quit Dartmouth, and in a manner of speaking 'ran away from life'.
As a poet, or a writer--be careful. The mind of a writer stays so busy, and requires it. It becomes an addiction, until it becomes overtaxed, and loses any focus where at one point you had 'too much focus'.
Yet you are young, just ending your college endeavors--which should never end. Education is what keeps us alive. If you stop, then growth stops. That was a flaw of Hemingway, who wanted to 'do in perpetuity instead of to learn until the end'.
Jefferson was reading and studying the Islam Language (Arabic, today). Thoreau read voluminously, as should everyone. Einstein was working on the Theory of Everything upon his deathbed. Thoreau was trying to organize his writings because 'consumption' robbed him of the valuable time required in such cases. Yet he was humorous until the end. Once, when asked about publication and libraries, he stated, 'I am the owner of the largest private library in Concord, and I know most of the authors personally.' He was referring to Walden--self-publication at the bad advice of Emerson--where he owned the remained of the copies of Walden that did not sell.
If you read it, you know why. It's complex; people are simple. Whitman had an advantage. His book Leaves of Grass was selling as poorly as Walden, until Emerson supposedly 'read it, complimented the new author for the work, and found his name on the cover recommending the book on the second publication--which fared well'. Had he done as much for Thoreau, they would not have spent their later years in perpetual disagreement.
Do not always write in intellectual subterfuge. I found more from just a few paragraphs than I can discern from the pieces of verse used as comments.
Okay--I have other things to do at the moment. Congrats on fine poetry, and your education, and the ability to combine the two rather well. Write. Paint. Photograph. Sometimes the best charity for humankind we can offer is not in giving our time when others do that better--but in doing that which we do best, perfecting that, and then moving to the other when time permits--or life. :)
Godspeed...and yes, I am old.
Samuel (ArseCynic)
Thank you Samuel. And you, dear dead poet! :)
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