Thursday, 25 June 2015

who I used to be

These past few days, I was thinking a lot about my purpose of living, about who I am, about who I am going to be. I thought of my future--what kind of job would I do, what would be my career, what should I pursue in my graduate studies? I think a lot, I know. But, not thinking about things make me feels like I am gambling my life to the unknown. I don't want to gamble my life, my future. I know that we can plan so much things, but still, there are possibilities that those plans would not happen. I know. I knew that feeling too well. But then, do we stop planning to avoid the disappointments? I can't speak for anyone else. For me, that's not worth it.

Speaking of which, when I started to think about what I am going to do--that makes me think a lot about who I am now. What type of a person am I? What do I love to do? What is my ultimate passion? What is the one thing that I can do for years but won't feel bored out of it? What is my talent? Who am I? What makes me, me? These questions were notably hard for me to answer- which worries me. Why is it that I myself, is having a hard time answering these questions. I bet I didn't know myself too well, or somewhere along the way, life happens, and I forgot who I used to be.


Albeit those unanswered questions, I forced myself to think about who I used to be. I forced myself to remember, to find back pieces of myself that have probably been lost--dropped, here and there. I said, I want to pick up the pieces back. I want to know the old me. I try to remember.

I remember, I was once the girl who was extremely passionate in writing. I used to have lots of journals--one after another. Each time a journal was fully filled, I would bought a new one. I remember, I was once the girl who was willing to spend a lot in buying unique and sturdy journals--for which I specially treasured them as they were my concrete proof of thoughts. I was once the girl who had multiple quote journals --filled with my favorite quotes which I looked upon to when I was feeling down and blue. I was once the girl who wrote stories, each day--for I thought stories are beautiful; fiction or not. I was once the girl who woke up with a smile, eager to do new things, eager to write. I was once the girl with lights flashing in her eyes whenever she sees books--for I thought books was an escape from the undearly world out here. I was once that girl--whom now is lost, hidden, somewhere inside me.

I shuddered, realizing that I was once that girl. Thinking, what changed me? What stopped me from still being that girl? Did life stop me? Did life make me changed? Did university life change me? I didn't know the answer. Again.

Also, I realized--things already happened. Answers won't fix what's broken, lost.

Still, passion wasn't supposed to be short-lived. Time to start nurturing the passion again, Izz.

I, too, hope that other people won't let their passions die. Protect and preserve your passions. Do not let a person, a thing, or whatever it is, to stop you from doing what you love. That is, the greatest gift of yourself, afterall.

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