When Sweet Turns Bitter

January 10, 2009

Too commonly it has been said that time is what heals even the most vicious of wounds and this truth has by now become a comforting cliché; the reassurance that all miseries eventually shall come to pass the hope which inspires people to look forward and not remain static in a painful present. The validity of this notion I can verify in regards to both the experiences of myself and others, though I find it important to stress that all pains worth the mention are bound to in some way have left scars.

“The course of life never turns out as expected,” my mother has told me ever since the youngest years of my infancy in an attempt to make certain that her daughter, Miss Josephine, never is to travel farther than she can see down the road. Though I have despised those words since the fist time I heard them, I am certain that my mother’s mention of them served a purpose; reminding me of never submitting to the extravagancies conjured by a youthful mind yet untamed by the wisdom brought on by experience.

The wisest of men are those who have realised that there are no certainties in life; that nothing may ever be taken for granted. To do so is to disregard from doubt and to submit to the convincing allures of folly; to become one of the fools who doth think that they are wise. It is a fallacy which most fear, but which most commit never the less. To my own disappointment, I have realised that neither I am excused for having carried out such an act as my most recent experiences have cemented this new knowledge in my mind.

For the past year there is a certain word which has brought much felicity to my days, a word which I have carefully introduced into every conversation where it rightfully could be mentioned. The word carried great importance to me and I would not lie to you if I say that I indeed were very much in love with speaking the word. To me it was a word of great symbolism and importance; it brought substance into a life so devoid of meaning and possibility for improvement that indolence took the place of motivation in a character once praised for its ambition.

For the past week this word of verbal sweetness—this word of my affections—has grown sour and it now leaves a bitter stain upon my tongue as I attempt to recover from the pains caused by a unforeseen blow to my view of self. To doubt doubt and to be convinced of convictions has proved poison to what was once so very dear to me. The word itself has not been altered—so it can in no way be blamed—but my perception of its sound—once so clear and bright!—has changed and it will never again be spoken by me with the smile of delight.

“How can such deep affections so suddenly be replaced with contempt and disregard?” I hear you ask, and indeed your curiosity shall be satisfied, for I have not authored this incoherent collection of words with the intent to keep you, my dear reader, in the dark. You shall see that the answer to your question—so rightfully asked—is to be found during study of the person affectionate; the object of love seldom to be blamed for a lover’s change of heart.

Cambridge has a noble ring to its name; it speaks of ambition and tradition to my ears; two sentiments which I value and celebrate, and I would have considered it an honour to be chosen to be part of its long history, but such a future was never to be mine. I no longer mention Cambridge when I speak, it has been confined to become a subject of my own reproach; the sweet word has turned bitter and harsh for it is no longer a symbol of opportunity, but one of personal failure and futures to never be known.

Soon I have for two decades been alive and am I fortunate a fifth of my life has already passed me by. One would consider the prime of my youth long gone, but its folly seems reluctant to bide me adieu; we have accompanied each other for too many years to ever be completely apart; were I not foolish in my convictions I would not be who I am; the question being whether a wiser me would be to prefer? Is doubt in conviction what I need to revive?

In retrospect even the most ambiguous of enigmas wear their answers on their sleeves; readily seen as well as read—why did I not consider to look while they were in my view? Alas! That is the way in which folly is defined; as blindness affecting one’s perception of the most obvious; folly being the symptom of complication, of shrouding and concealing what was left out in the open for everyone to see! This realisation is soon to be followed by revitalised reproach: Why was consideration never considered? Why did conviction appear so compelling, so very convincing? Why—oh, why?—was the unclouded clarity of certainty concealed to me?

Had I doubted more—and not been so very convinced—success might very well have been mine. Had I been less convinced—and had I been a person in doubt—my future might have been another! Had I not been as overly confident in myself as I were I would have doubted my abilities, knowledge and talents more. Had I doubted myself I would have questioned what I knew and been motivated to heal the flaws which most apparently were present in my person. Had I doubted and healed myself of conviction’s ignorance my premature honour and pride would perhaps then have been rightfully mine?

Indeed, I committed the fallacy which humanity seems unable to abandon; the inability to realise its own limits. Man is not an omnipotent creature; he does not have the ability to predict the future; all his attempts to do so will eventually be proven wrong. My mistake—I beg you to learn from mine and man’s mistakes—was that I reaped my harvest before my fields had been ploughed. I were so certain of my success that I celebrated it before celebrations were due and failure was all that I left for myself to find.

Perhaps my mother was right when she mused to me that life never takes the course which one expects or wishes it to follow, no matter how much I despised those her words. Had I been more attentive perhaps my fate would have been another; had I convinced my mind to contain a fair amount of doubt I might not have attempted to fly on wings premature. Though I am a fifth of a century old I have barely lived at all and experience cannot easily be considered mine. It is through my folly that I grow to become more than the sum of my parts, it is through the blows of disappointment that I learn the lessons of life.

For, indeed, my dear mother was right: life is fickle and its course is never set in stone. The faintest whisper is enough to steer it off course as life is nothing but a ship sailing in the dark. Wisdom of the past is the only light which serves as a guide, but in a world of unlimited possibilities one is at times all too easily lured to follow the sparkle of fool’s gold.

No longer may Cambridge be the intellectual port where I head, but however knowing that my folly and I are alone to blame I have been given an opportunity to learn from my mistakes—I have been given yet another valuable lesson by life—and I may be more of a person now than I were before sweet turned bitter in my mouth. This pain will no doubt leave a scar, but the initial sting has now faded and it will soon only throb during the darkest hours of my days.

I may never fully forgive myself for having allowed the opportunity of a lifetime to pass me by, but I have learnt that the wisest course of action is to be a fool and doubt one’s wisdom; as even the wisest also are fools.


I have had a revelation. I have realised that I am not depressed because I know the world is in severe need of my talents (no matter wha part of the world; the movie industry, the local museums, the hospitals, the governments… Do I need to continue?). I am not depressed because of above mentioned reason, I am depressed because the world does not want my talents.

I went to the museum today to see the exhibition “The Human Journey” depicting the evolution of the human form. Let’s just say that it bugged me. For, I wonder, why on earth are early humans supposed to be fair-skinned? As far as I know our closest relatives the chimpanzees and gorillas have heavily pigmented skin to protect them from the sun’s radiation. Why not the early humans? I get so mad at educational museums which have such inaccurate itemson display in their exhibitions. Teaching young children false facts. Shame on you Naturhistoriska Riksmuséet!

I mean, if I were in charge of the exhibitions, I would not let such an obvious error slide through my fingers or past my eyes. Not that I have a degree in paleoanthropology or anything, but to the extent of my knowledge, I, with my limited education, know more than people with Ph.D’s. It is the little things which freak me out.

Further, had I been part of the 10’000 B.C. crew, I could have saved the film’s reputation. I would have allowed it some artistic freedom, because let’s face it, who would watch the film if it was nothing but a historical document? Artistic freedom in all its glory however, but some things are not to be tampered with. And another let’s-face-it-fact, the world is already starving for knowledge. No one knows anything. It is a sad, but horribly true fact. Blockbuster movies have a responsibility toward the people. Small, but still very important. If big-scale productions can educate the masses, the world has gained a lot.

The world needs me and we all know it. Name me the next President of -Insert Country/World Here- and I will save the world!

It is too bad I never will be offered the chance to prove to everyone that my words are the most true of all. Ah well, in another life. Or, this life. It takes too long for this other life to arrive. ;D

There are people who describe me as lazy when I tell them that medicine does not interest me. Considering that I neither am interested in the study of law, I wonder why I am not seen as lazy, not yet having studied the subject.

Life is all about priorities. All I have come to understand, this far in my life, is that neither law nor medicine are are of my personal priorities.

The only thing I cam be accounted as being lazy for, is that I yet have to find what my priorities are. Wait… I already know what my priorities and passions are, just that they are far different from what is considered being the norm.

To aspire attaining motherhood is by some considered as lazy, but having grown up with a stay-at-home mother always present, I can honestly and accurately say that it is no occupation for the lazy. That people see aspiring mothers as lazy, and at times pathetic, angers me.

It is because of an attitude like this, that being a good mother is no priority of people (or rather women), that the world of today is in such bad shape as it actually is. The world of today sees terrors such as murder and rape and robbery, as mundane.

I am also called being a dreamer, in additon to being called lazy, as if being a dreamer is a negative trait. World, I ask of you to forgive me for being a dreamer, but of all the things I have sacrificed for being seen as sane by you, being a dreamer is the one thing I refuse to abandon.

So be it that I am lost in a 19th century world, where women were mothers and did not pursue any carreers. During those days, which now are far in the past, children and youths were well-behaved, and the world did in effect not suffer from the mundanity that surrounds the terrors of this world.

Cynism is Not For Me

January 8, 2008

I have decided that a while now has passed. That decision also brings (yet another) revelation – that I am eddicted to sharing my thoughts. Ah, well, there are far more (and less philosophical) things to be addicted to.

The point of this journal (which I shall try to keep as short as Josephinely possible) is that life never should be affected by the bad choices one is bound to make. At least not in the long run.

My heart has already made a decision and it is that it is on strike until further notice. (Further notice being when I have rid myself of my demons (i.e. dropped out of nursing school).) Until I have done that, I will not be truly happy.

I am sure there are poeple in this world who can live with not being truly happy, but I am not one of them. I am the kind of person who would choose happiness and love over money.

Part of being human is to make mistakes. We learn through practice.

Oscar Wilde said:
Experience is the name everyone gives to their mistakes.

A common saying says [upon the topic of mistakes]:
It human to make mistakes.” or “Failing is human. Just don’t stop trying.

And, you will have to agree with me upon this, that even if one makes one bad mistake, it should not disease one’s entire existance. We should learn from the mistakes of the past for they are the revelations of tomorrow.

I will list some bad choices I have made before:

  • Eaten sand
  • Go fishing without bringing anyone to actually kill the fish for me
  • Bully people twice my size
  • Believe people when they say that I fail
  • Not stand up for my views

And these I have learnt to never do again (OK, almost)! Then why should I have to follow through and suffer from having made the greatest mistake of my life?

I agree that I yet do not know what to do with my life, but at least I know what to not do with my life. Like eating sand or finishing nursing school.

I have realized, that I have only one life and I must treasure it. Everyone should treasure their own lives and not do things because it will make others happy.

Should I follow through with my nursing studies, and against all odds actually practice as a nurse, I will be the sadistic nurse you have all met and despise and fear. I will be the nurse who hates her life and her job and the entire world, and most of all you who needs her help. She does not want to help you, she wants to see your eyes bleed. Because she wishes she was someone else, just that she has not had the courage to follow her dream.

I am often too cocky for my own good and when I am not I have to learn to be. This world gives nothing for free (capitalistic as it is (it is sad really)) and in order to get something one has to fight for it.

For in the end, all that matters is that one is happy (and I who am fairy-tale poisoned actually believe in that!). For, when one is happy, everyone else around one is happy too.

You have to agree. Reading my depressed rants is not fun. You want to read happy journals, happy revelations, not cynical, sadistic ones. For, you all want to believe that the world is a blessed place and that we all should be happy. You believe this deep inside even if you are the cynical person I have decided not to be.

What is the point of a life lost?

Contemplate it, just for the sake of it. The question may be more worth than you realize.

So, please, contemplate the above words. And first and foremost, make sure that you never end up in a situation similar to mine.

And, even if Oscar Wilde once said that:
“We all live in gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.”

What he forgot to mention was that when the stars are clouded or have lost their appeal, then gutter is all we see.

I read in a journal that appeared on the Today page [on deviantART] that life is all about opening doors. I find that the deviant who authored those words is in a situation similar to mine.

The Deviant Rahll wrote in his journal that we all have two doors to choose from every time we have to make a choice. One can only pass through one door, which leads to a new room which in turn has two new doors.

I find myself trapped in such a room. I have two doors before me:

The one to my left leads to a life of nursing. It is the left door because the left cerebral hemisphere contains the logical and analytical functions, those which create problems for me.

The door to my right leads to a life of creativity. It is the right door because the right cerebral hemispere is the creative one.

When I search my heart for answers to which door I should choose, I find that it is the right door that I wish to pass through. That is where my passion lies. That, and it is the right door for me.

The problem with these two doors is however that I already have opened the left door of nursing. Beyound it I find myself in a financially secure future, but without happiness.

From beyound the right door I can hear my favourite song playing, muffled, because the door is closed.

Where My Heart Will Take Me– Vocal by Russell Watson, Lyrics by Diane Warren.

It´s been a long road, getting from there to here.
It´s been a long time, but my time is finally near.
And I can feel the change in the wind right now. Nothing´s in my way.
And they´re not gonna hold me down no more, no they´re not gonna hold me down.

Cause I´ve got faith of the heart.
I´m going where my heart will take me.
I´ve got faith to believe. I can do anything.
I´ve got strength of the soul. And no one´s gonna bend or break me.
I can reach any star. I´ve got faith, I´ve got faith, faith of the heart.

It´s been a long night. Trying to find my way.
Been through the darkness. Now I finally have my day.
And I will see my dream come alive at last. I will touch the sky.
And they´re not gonna hold me down no more, no they´re not gonna change my mind.

Cause I´ve got faith of the heart.
I´m going where my heart will take me.
I´ve got faith to believe. I can do anything.
I´ve got strength of the soul. And no one´s gonna bend or break me.
I can reach any star. I´ve got faith, faith of the heart.

I´ve known the wind so cold, and seen the darkest days.
But now the winds I feel, are only winds of change.
I´ve been through the fire and I´ve been through the rain.
But I´ll be fine.

Cause I´ve got faith of the heart.
I´m going where my heart will take me.
I´ve got faith to believe. I can do anything.
I´ve got strength of the soul. And no one´s gonna bend or break me.
I can reach any star. I´ve got faith.

I´ve got faith of the heart.
I´m going where my heart will take me.
I´ve got strength of the soul. And no one´s gonna bend or break me.
I can reach any star. I´ve got faith, I´ve got faith, faith of the heart.

It´s been a long road.

So, the question is why I do not do anything to get back on my feet.

It is because my left cerebral hemisphere is the dominant one, but it won the tug-o-war struggle to power by little more than an inch. My cerebral hemispheres are of equal strength. I am talented in many areas both within the sciences and the arts. Some would say that I as a result of that is less talented in the areas than those with clearly dominant hemispheres are, and I am prone to agree. That, as well as the fact that I have no idea which side right and left are.
Tell me to go to the right, and there is a 50% chance that I actually do that. Totally random in other words.

Because the left hemisphere is in power, for now, the right insists on struggling and questioning. It will not give up without a fight.

But, even if my whole being has made its decision, I find it to be hard to follow it through. I like to play it safe. That the left- and right door’s monthly salaries differ by $11’000 just makes my choice harder to make and follow through with.

And it is all due to the x in the equation of my life. The unkown.

See? This is what my left hemisphere makes me do! Write equations!

Problem 1: If I choose the left door, the Door of Nursing, I will continue my nursing studies for the upcoming 2½ years. After that, I have to work for one year before studying for my Master’s in Nursing, which will take 3 years to complete.

Age: 18 + 3 + 1+ 3 = 25

Offers: A finacially stable life and a boring job which I will dislike to the day I retire.

Conclusion: That I will be 25 years of age before I have even started living. This leaves me 5 years to find Mr. Right (who also can be entitled x). As I do not seek nor want to pursue a life in the country I happen to be born in, I have to seek a future abroad. And, because all princesses have to kiss many frogs to find their prince, 5 years is too little time. For, if I do not have children by 30, my life is lost. And no. Do not come and tell me that the unknown in the equation may stumble across my path somewhere along the way, because that is highly unlikely. And such elements are not considered in logical equations.

The conclusion to the 1st problem is then that while the problem presents a finacially stable future, it does not offer much else.

Problem 2: If I choose the right door, the Door of Creativity, I will drop out of nursing school. I will probably study languages at the University of Stockholm while finishing the two novels that lie within my head. I will also finish writing and illustrate the 4 children’s books that lie next to the novels. Having done this, I will then seek new challenges outside the realm of science, and I may quite possibly end up a goldsmith.

Age: Not defined as I may leave the country whenever I feel like it.

Offers: A creative and fulfilling life which offers many more opportunities for finding the unknown.

Conclusion: Choosing the right door will mean that I make the right choice. I will not have to worry about having time to spare, for I will have all the time in the world. To study a handicraft one can do both in a school setting as well as an apprentice. I will eventually come to choose the apprentice option. This, I can do both at home and abroad. Finally getting out among people, the unknown x may cross my path at any time.

The conlusion to the 2nd problem is then that even if the opinion does not offer any finacial stability, it may offer everything else I ask for.

The problem with this is, as already mentioned, that I just can not quit something I have started. If I ever do quit my nursing studies it will be proof of my right cerebral hemisphere’s strength, that it is a force my left hemisphere has ignored for too long and now has to take it into account.

But, everyone tells me that enduring the agony I have suffered for so long, is the right thing to do. And when people tell me that, then I become insecure, wondeirng if quitting nursing school then perhaps is a mistake after all.

I have however searched my heart for answers, and I have come up with an answer. The question is what should one do when one is too weak to manage closing the door one has already opened, and open a new one behind which the rain does not fall?

Rainy Day Contemplations

December 7, 2007

Water vapour dominates the skies of today’s Stockholm and its surroundings. Tiny water droplets have joined forces and created thick clouds. As transparent and innocent on their own that they are, just as grey and unforgiving are they together. Thick veils of white, in layers above my head, have deprieved my world of sunlight. The only light is a grey shimmer, making the winter day remind one of the bright midnights the Northern parts of the world were blessed by just a few months ago.

Large rain drops have abandoned the skies and are falling like pebbles onto the streets. They are without mercy as they fall, they make no distinction between the brown leaves autumn forgot and the soon-to-be water soaked coats of Swedes, trying to escape the unforgiving rain.

Just like the droplets of the water vapour, which make up the clouds, have joined forces, so have the falling rain and the wind. Trapped in a maze of tall buildings the wind has no where to go. It searches for an escape with irratic movements, and with it, comes the rain.

As I were on my way home, not too long ago, the rain was already falling. The pebbles of water which fall from the sky, without the hardness of ice, make it impossible to reach one’s destination without having collected a fair share of them.

A umberella is to no use in this weather of despair. As the rain falls it is caught by the in-a-maze-trapped winds, making the water reach all parts of oneself. The umberella is loyal to the winds – a man made tool which has turned on us. Umberellas wish to be as free as the roaming winds. They are light, and perfect to trap the wind as it blows past. Though, umberellas can not fly by themselves, they will forever be dependent upon the winds. Thus, they turn on us. They turn on the people who rely upon them for protection from the raging wind and the heavy drops of rain. They know we will never release our knuckle-whitening grips of their handles. And so they invert themselves, gratefully assisted by the wind. They are both aware of that an inverted umberella is to no use.

As my umberella inverted itself over and over again, assisted by winds from all directions, I decided to let the rain shower me. My black coat was mattened and became darker in color. Just like the pavement below my feet, the water which collected upon its surface darkened it.

Rain does everything in its power to relieve the world of sunlight. The clouds hide the sun’s beams from view. They are however inventive by nature, and some beams always manage to reach below the clouds. Eternally optimistic these rays of light truly are. The rain is however deceptive. By falling and collecting upon the dark streets it makes sure to trap the few rays of light which reach the people below the skies. The puddles of rain water which are common on the streets, days like today, are nothing more than black holes in miniature, with an unsatisfiable appetite for sunshine.

The train covered some distance instead of me. By foot it would have taken hours, by train it was a matter of minutes to reach the suburbs of Stockholm. All as the rain poured from the skies. It was a matte landscape which passed by outside the train. Water soaked pictures of nature’s, aquarel in their structure, brown and grey in color. The summer flowers’ dead stems were left, as a painful reminder of that the season of death reigns for the time being. The large areas above small sounds were dimmed by the falling rain.

Just a few hours after my rainy arrival home, I found myself alone in an empty car. Whatever heat it had generated, during its short tour from my family’s home to a younger sister’s school, the unmerciful weather stole. Slowly it disappeared from around me though no proof of it was left beside the plume of watery smoke which I realeased into the air by my every breath.

The rain was still falling. It flowed down the windshield of the car, reminding me of that the only thing sepearating me from the falling rain was a thin piece of glass. I could see the water droplets falling from the skies smile gleefully at me. They knew they were in control and forever would be.

Outside the car there was a concrete jungle. The foundations of grey houses were dark from having been soaked by the rain. The streets had turned into highways for small streams of water to follow. A group of people passed by, heads covered by either umberellas or coats. Despite the weather, they were happy.

It was then I realized that I am not like them. It struck me that I am no ordinary person. Despite this stunning revelation, I was not surprised. I am no ordinary human being, and never will I be. I will never be able to be content while surrounded by a group of people, I will never allow myself to laugh, nor show any other kind of emotion, around other people. I am a private person. I am a person the most comfortable when being around no one but myself.

The anonymity of a computer screen makes me blossom, there is no situation during which I am more myself than when I am in front of the computer. I am always someone else when around people, trying hard to be just like them: social, likeable, happy and not myself. The kind of person I am is the kind of person people love to hate. That I am kind, and love to be kind, is of no importance in the context.

I am a person whose counterpart is no where to be found. My thoughts are not to be voiced in the presence of others, and for someone who loves sharing herself just as much as I do, it is destructive in the end. I am however the most happy when I am on my own. For, then I can not offend anyone beside myself. It is only I who second guess myself, and without anyone else present, there is no need.

As the rain flowed down the windshield of the empty and cold car, and as my breath turned into a watery vapour, I knew what would make me happy. It would not be to tell myself to be content, it would not be to be like the rest of the Swedes who accept everything, questioning nothing.

No longer seeing the rain which flowed across the windshield, I saw myself. I were in an empty building, holding no one but me. I was a guardian, a guardian of bottled things, things no one else wished to guard. There were bottled pigs and bottled fish, bottled hands and bottled brains. Everything inbetween heaven and earth was bottled, and among it all, there was I.

In order to be truly happy in life, I need to be by myself. I need to do only what I have chosen to do. I need not pretend that I am interested in a topic, I need not change my views to fit those of others. I need not to be part of shallow friendships, the kind of friendships which bring no one any joy. Instead, I would like to spend time with my very best friends: Me, Myself and I. Together we could guard what others wish not to. Together we would be content.

There are times when I think that the earth revolves too slowly around this closest star we like to refer to as our sun. Our blazing, warming, smiling sun. Our very own star. I have not seen it for a while, the heavy clouds in the skies have kept me from being blessed hy its beams. Even if I am not allowed to catch a glimpse of it, I know that our pale blue orb in the sky revolves around it and at the same time it revolves around its own axis. This is common knowledge today, a hint of the countless advencements we have done since the firt sentient human being stood up in their homeland.

There are times when I think of what life must have been like, so many hundreds of centuries ago. In some ways it must have been so easy and in other ways so very hard. Easy in a way that they had no modern day worries to be concerned over, hard in a way because they always feared to be the next meal of a predator lurking in the grass – somewhere out there. They may have feared for their life at times but at least they did not have to endure the every day stress we modern humans surround ourselves with. We think we are advenced with our space-probing technology, our global communication and our baffling political battles. But really, are we much more than the ancient humans we are descended from, or are we still those people, just with other tools and modern equipment?

There are times when I feel that I am ready to give up, that I can not stand the clock on the wall revolving anti-clockwise. They days I live through are so short, and still they seem to be without end. I wish that the future would arrive soon, and still I do not want it to. I am scared that I soon will have to stand all on my own and still I can not wait for that day to arrive. The days I live through are so very short. Just a few more hours and I would be delighted. But it is not always that easy. Not everything turns out the way one wishes it to do – most often it turns out in a wholly different way.

College really has taken the best of me. I felt so sure of myself, confident that I would master all challenges laid before me. Because I am Josephine, the one and only. She who can do everything. And just as well she who believes in herself a little too much, a little too often. I am struggling to keep up with the lectures, I am struggling to understand. It is not hard, but I am not really all interested in it. I feel that I have done my share of years in school, I am ready to face greater challenges. I wish to face the greatest challenges of my life. Not in a decade, but now.

I have second guessed myself so many times. Especially after my first exam, which I barely passed. This is what I am supposed to be good at, and still I fail. Is this really what I am supposed to study, is this right for me? There are so many other occupations I would be happy with having, why am I not studying those subjects? I already know the answer, and still I second guess myself. Either I will not feel like I am accomplishing anything, or the profession I want to have does not exist. I searched the Internet during one of my darker days, time I had stolen from reading and preparing for my upcoming final exam in anatomy, I searched for a new direction, a new goal. I scrolled through a seemingly never ending list of possible professions, and I found none which intrigued me.

I already know what I wish the most to become. But my age keeps me from realizing this dream, my current life impeds those wishes. In a decade or so, I may fulfil that wish of mine. But a decade is a long time. If the clocks I have surrounded myself with are moving backwards, if the earth revolves around the sun in the worng direction – then what am I to do? Shall I endure these first 3 years of which I have finished only 2 months. Two months which feel like an eternity. And after the 3 years I have barely started, I have 1 year before me and 2 more. And then another 2 years. Then I can work, though I will have other things in mind – making preparations for fulfilling my life’s dream. Studying, in a sense, for the exam I have been looking foward to for so many years. To be part of a profession which is not recognized because it is too important to mention. Too important to claim one wishes to be a part of.

It is hard when one’s mind is older than one’s life. When I speak to people, I fool them into believeing I am someone else, simply by being myself. What is up with that? It is like the I and the me are two different people. The person people see is young and frail, scared of everything. The person I truly am is compassionate, caring and mature. That these two people do not mix very well together has created the visible illusion of a frail person with few social skills. I know why this is, why people percieve me as someone I am not. It is because the person I am never has mixed very well with the person other people see. To constantly never be understood because one is older than one is – that is what shapes a person with weak social skills in public. An outgoing, kind person is hidden beneath. And the stress of college had burid this true me even deeper, she has not had the time to surface for a long time – only through my occassional analysis of the world I live in.

I have to endure these stressful times, these hard days. The workload I have to endure, I will graduate into a profession I will love having but never feel fulfilled with being occupied with. I will do all this, live through the days that turn from day to morning instead of the other way around, all because I am a decade older than myself. One decade into the future I will be truly me. Holding the new life I have half created. And then, I will smile. Then I wil be fulfilled.