Rememeber that line Bilbo Baggins had at the beginning of The Fellowship of the Ring, when he said, "I'm tired [Gandalf]. I feel like butter scraped over too much bread. I want to see mountains...someplace quiet where I can finish my book," and then he sighs and looks wistfully out the window? I've been feeling like that for quite some time now. Except that it's my patience wearing thin, and my ability to do things in a systematic and organized manner, to be able to handle pressure. I'm noticing that I'm not as happy as I thought I ought to be, that while I know I am lucky to be where I am, I am slowly realizing that maybe I will need a change of pace soon. Because honestly, I can't write. I can't produce anything except copy for work and short articles every once in a while. And even the quality of these pieces are slowly diminishing. I have no more patience or creativity to spare - I can't even summon up the energy to think for myself most of the time. My most common line to people nowadays is, "Tell me what you want me to do and I'll do it."
I don't know. Is it because I'm young, I'm earning my own money, I'm walking down the right path in terms of a lot of things? Is it because, running out of conceivable problems, I choose to make my own in the spirit of commiseration and boredom? I hope not. That would be horrible. And more horrible, if I'm doing it unconsciously. But I can't help it - maybe it's the pace at work, maybe it's because I'm doing below par when it comes to what's supposed to be my area of expertise. Maybe it's because I'm missing all these little details that I'm supposed to be taking care of but I keep on losing track of. Maybe I'm not old enough, not mature enough to handle this. Maybe I'm meant for something else.
Making mistakes outside of school, I'm learning, goes beyond your grade or your professor's disposition. It's the ripple effect, and I am just so afraid of failing that I am fumbling on two left feet and making more mistakes than what's already there. And I am just so damn scared of making any more mistakes that this has effectively rendered me paralyzed to the point that every little action I do has to be dictated by a higher power. I understand, but I can't comprehend. And a part of me rebels against it, knowing that I am capable of doing these things, that I'm not stupid. And yet the other part is thankful, sighing with relief, knowing that I can be a corporate drone, merely following orders.
I don't know. I'm only 22 and I'm already wishing that I could go away, go somewhere else, breathe a different kind of air. Or maybe it's the coming of summer - everyone else is preparing to go somewhere, and I'll still be here, languishing in Manila.