I remember telling a friend that I’m feeling half-broken and half-devastated a few days ago. I relayed it through an online conversation which my friend intentionally or unintentionally ignored. Nevertheless, I didn’t force my issue. I slept away with perhaps, another saga of my quarter life crisis.
I later realized that there’s no such thing as being half-broken and half-devastated. Anything broken is already broken. The mere presence is enough to confirm full existence. I’m broken, devastated, to encapsulate everything in one word, unwell.
Maybe this is just another episode of my self-diagnosed quarter life crisis. Deep in my heart, I know the reasons. As much as I want to relate the trigger of my struggle, I know for sure that what I have are shallow and selfish reasons. Yes I’m ashamed of certain things I cannot handle as a grown up. The only thing I can bravely admit is the fact that I drowned myself with too much expectations. I conditioned myself that it will happen. When reality finally confirmed my fate, I felt like a frustrated kid again. I wanted to run away and find my own temporary escape.