July 14th 2018 – Written in a bit of a pessimistic frenzy

My undergraduate journey is about to be signed, sealed and delivered on a paper – a paper that apparently validates me, my identity, my work ethic and my knowledge capacity.

For 3 years we have been learning cultural studies and communication theories that focus on making us aware of the institutionalised world we live in and are told we can’t necessarily do anything else about it. Then, we are thrown out to find our way, identity and comfort in those very same systems they taught us to hold sceptically in our minds. As salty as I sound, even though some students are able to cope and get along just fine, there are undoubtedly plenty going through a sort of internal crisis. Our 3 years in an intramural setting learning about the dangers of institutions have culminated in a private, mental battle – and rightly so, if we have really been paying attention in class.

From the time we are toddlers, we are taught that there is a dire need to be “successful” if we ever are to truly attain perfection within our lives. We learn that success is money, material goods and degrees. Here I am, just a speck in the millions of university students around the world about to reach the starting line of the rat race that countless others are vying to join or are already a part of.

At the threshold between my innocent years and full-fledged adulthood, it’s easier to look back at all the wrong choices I’ve made that will determine my future in many ways; it’s easy to map out the past; its topographies are definite – and as a result of our now whole understanding we feel regret, fear, astonishment, etc. It’s easier to be wiser when relying on hindsight. Apart from this, there is the expectation that our futures should be perfectly planned out – especially if you want to be successful – but what about those who have no idea? Bearing the weight of expectation, it is no surprise that we feel invalid and incompetent.

Younger me was setting me up for a stress-free, relaxed future as she saw fit. She didn’t take subjects that would have taken a toll on her sanity or not give her a moment’s peace. She wanted me to live life on my own terms, doing what I love. She had good intentions. But the present me has been quite forgetful, letting slip all the decisions I’ve made in the past while getting lost in a whirlwind of expectation, pretentiousness and a never-ending cycle of success. We live on other people’s terms now. I don’t know if the tragedy here is that my past-self was too naive to understand the reality of life or that the present me does not know what I love anymore – and even if I do, I don’t know if it is a feasible option to follow, in the name of survival.

I think, at this point, I first need to come to a solid understanding of the word “Success” and what it means to me, and I guess I’ve got to use the resources I currently have and build up my life from scratch. Most importantly, I’ve got to decide if I should accept the idea of living on another person’s terms (the more comfortable but mundane option) or should I create my own terms? Overall, what scares me the most is that life is short – and somehow we’ve got to make decisions that will alter our futures and realities, most of the time, permanently. Life isn’t a Sims game – our second chances are limited because we are growing older.

 

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