Midnight Impulse

learning experiences and impulsive decisions

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Scared of Going to Uni

I always imagined that I’ll be excited when it’s finally time to prepare for university.  Going away and growing up and all that.  As I sit here, senior year half a month away, I’m the farthest from excited as can be.  I’m petrified; anxious.  Nervous and stressed.  I used to be intrigued by the idea of living on my own, away from my parents.  I’d imagine growing up and learning how to be independent and finding out what I want to do with rest of my life.  Somewhere along the line I lost all interest in doing all that.

Truth be told I’m scared.  I’m not even going to bother finding a better adjective.  I’m scared.  I’m so, so scared.  And it’s so fucking selfish.  I get all these opportunities thrown right onto my lap and I feel I can’t handle them.  I get an all-expenses-paid opportunity to go to whatever school I want, in whatever country I want, to study whatever the fuck it is I want and I feel like I’m suffocating.  

It hit me the other day that I’m in the second half of my teens at this point.  When you’re 14, shit doesn’t matter.  You’re young and you’ve got it all ahead of you and you have so much time to do things, and so much time to plan and so much time to daydream.  Although it’s only three years later, I feel like a very different person.  You sit there and prepare for college but none of it is really serious.  It’s all in the planning stage.  I guess I never expected to make it to this point.  I always knew 2014 is my graduation year but I never thought it would actually come.  

All this time I thought I had things figured out.  I’ll go to New York and study journalism and become this international professional by my late twenties.  Now I think everything I planned is so unrealistic.  I’m afraid of being unhappy.  I’m afraid of being lost and broke and alone.  I’m afraid of running out of time before I get to do everything I always wanted to do.


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Just f**king grab that giraffe by the ears and ride it out

Lately I’ve been going through a sort of bad time.  I was having bad days more often than I should, and a couple of times I stayed up at night crying while angrily scrawling in my “feels” journal, writing 5-6 pages within 90 minutes.  With all this free time on my hands, my mind went into overdrive recounting certain upsetting incidents I experienced during junior year.  A certain one kept coming back again and again more than the rest, and I just chastise myself over and over for never standing up to this girl who hated for a nationality-based reason.  I hadn’t wronged her in any way, so why was I getting shit over a war my family never participated in half a decade before I was born?

Oddly enough this morning–several mornings after I’d stopped thinking about this girl–I came across an epiphany while washing my face.  I was thinking about how being politically correct is so incredibly important nowadays.  The majority has to work super hard not to accidentally insult the minority.  And that was it.  Why should the majority work hard not to insult the minority?  Why should someone’s opinion be censored just so as not to upset someone else?  Why should I care what this girl was forced to believe?  Why should she not express herself just because I’m there?  What she says to others shouldn’t upset me.

In a perfect world, everybody would be polite in public to one another.  But in a perfect world, there wouldn’t be racial issues.  Gender discrimination.  Homophobia.  Violence.  So fuck it.  Say what you want and believe what you want.  What other people do shouldn’t upset you.  It’s only illegal when it’s physical.

Cynically yours,