(In which my sympathy goes to all the leaders of the world.)
Recently, I am in the midst of a terrible financial crisis – so terrible that it is starting to affect my appetite and ability to weigh things. Not only that. Just thinking of how I’ll survive this week and keep my body and soul together until the next payday gives my entire system a “shutting down” alert.
I know that I am completely accountable for all my actions and decisions whatever they are and however absurd or crazy they mat be. I take ownership and responsibility of all of them. But since yesterday, I have been brooding about the manner in which my plans were executed. And at times, it’s my plans that I question. Whenever I think of my plans, I question myself – together with all that is in me – my actions, my plans, my decisions, my choices.
And then all the questions that people and family ask which I tried to ignore pop out: Did I choose the wrong course and major? Did I choose the wrong job? Was my decision to take my Graduate Studies impractical? If everything is just a matter of time, when is the “proper” time to do it? How long should I wait? How early should I act?
I stopped thinking; my forehead still rests on my palms. I just knew I stopped thinking. For a moment, my mind seemed to freeze. Still looking down, I saw my unfinished lessons plan on literature, my statistical table with unfilled columns and rows and my notes on psychology scattered. I searched for my wallet to buy food and caught a glimpse of a receipt – and the due date for my tuition fees – in my bag. I unfastened the button of my wallet open and weakened at the sight of what proves how miserable I am. I was about to sigh when my phone beeped. I reached for my phone to read the fresh message.
“I am going out to meet her today. I’ll just send you a message later. Take care.”
I finally let out a loud sigh. Or was it a scream?