Changing Life Courses

As a four-year old, I wanted to be a gymnast. I wanted to stun people with my dazzling moves and awe them with my flexibility.

But science encyclopedias found their way to me and I got so deeply involved in my imagined scientific quests.

As a six-year old, I dreamed of reaching the stars and discovering my own planet. I have also wanted to dive into the depths of the seas and name creatures unnamed.

But mathematics happened so I decided to be a journalist instead.

As an intern of a local newspaper back in college, I found joy being at the front-line of information. I enjoyed making rounds in the city, knocking on government offices, and asking random people on the streets about their opinion on certain topics to develop the stories I want to tell.

I was so convinced that this was everything I will ever want to do in my life. So much so that I plotted what milestones I should be getting at what time.

However, I doubt that now.

As a social media manager and a web writer for the online arm of a national broadcasting company, I ceased to find joy in getting so much information round-the-clock. Phone constantly chirping, emails regularly getting full — the burden is just so much.

Besides, it’s toxic being at the receiving end of trolls and hate messages. Need I mention how annoying it is when people question your education because you missed a letter in your copy?

I started to doubt my journalistic abilities, too.

From time to time, I feel as though I am not good enough in terms of telling stories, or getting information, or just dealing with people.

Sometimes the doubts translate to pain that, at the end of the day, when once I would jot down every single thought I have in mind, I would resent it now. Instead of grabbing my pen and paper, I would grab a paintbrush and an artist sheet and mix random colors and make barely recognizable shapes. It doesn’t capture what I feel, but it is the breathe of fresh air that I need.

If this is a only a test of time — just a prolonged shitty day — or if this something more permanent remains to be seen. But surely, what comes after this phase is bound to be interesting.

Phase

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Author:

I don't know who I am, and that is why I write.

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