so i am at another 'decisive' stage of my life. they said that about the psle, the o levels, the a levels which were supposed to be the hardest exams of my life, what tosh. the danger of being told constantly that you are on the cusp of something big is that you will naturally run from it.
we have been programmed to fly or fight, and as far as cusps go it has always been flight with the fastest possible speed in the opposite direction because the stupid word gives me visions of a petrified me standing on the edge of a very tall cliff with no parachute.
all our lives we have been told to do well because it keeps our doors open. what is the purpose of an open door? so that we may one day eventually close them? so you're essentially embarking on an education, and possibly life, to make sure your ass is covered, and that you have escape routes? to where and from what then.
perhaps it's all this angst from being reduced to a few pages of paper that i will labour over for hours only to have them tossed into the reject bin. my entire existence can be succinctly documented on 2 sides of paper with about 1.5 spacing with words carefully included to draw the readers' eyes to. my very job application and sole form of identification is a serial number longer than most countries' identification number.
i'm supposed to be bucked at the prospect of making it through another round but it feels like i'm just wading through the blood of wild boars before i entertain the big crowds when i am lion feed. so maybe it's like what i think it is. work puts food on the table, work keeps your family clothed. work is there to make you suck the marrow of whatever is left of your life after work.
delayed gratification is supposed to make the pleasure more intense. i have my eye on 'supposed' and i don't see a high probability of that happening.
our day will come.
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