The Ripples In The Water

How am I feeling? Overwhelmed. Dead inside. Worried, Resentful. Fear of failure. Fear of stagnancy. Fear of poverty, nothingness. How will I live if I don’t have money? But that’s not even what I want, I want to experience the joys of life regardless of my debt and finances, and I know that is possible. But is it possible here, in Ithaca? Something makes me not so certain.

I’ve taken steps toward my future; I’ve applied to graduate school, a bold move granted my lack of savings, lack of a well-paying job, and lack of a way to get there. Despite occasional glimpses into a positive future, I am more often than not overcome by a feeling of pre-eminent failure. Even if I do get in, how will it be possible? Who will be on my side? Who will assist me if I need it? Is it even possible for me to make it to San Francisco myself? How would I pay rent and other necessities? How will I be able to work, potentially up to 25 hours a week, while taking classes? Should I have applied to the weekend program? I can’t bother with regrets. Heck, I don’t even have an interview time yet so what am I even worrying about. Well, I’m worrying about the future. Valid?

I’m not so sure I enjoy being around my friends, people, as much as I used to. I feel restless, I sense a wall between myself and most; and I’m much more productive on my own. Is that how my life must turn now, devoid of fun, focused on producing work, attaining my goals, and nothing else? Perhaps I’m exaggerating for the point of it, to highlight the emotions that bog me down. Cynicism hurts my body, my ways of the past only produce a transient happiness, but I keep reaching for them. But I do not yet foresee a way of the future which will work for me.

I have succeeded in finding more happiness in the mundane labor of my job, but I feel I’m still not there yet. I still can’t truly enjoy work. Dishwashing is usually not seen as enjoyable, but I will embark on the task of finding joy in it if it is my duty. But how can I cease the reckless jealousy of others who have more than me? How have I lied to myself about my financial status for so long? Am I supposed to keep reaching for those goals despite their price tag, or am I meant to dwell at a lower level on the financial ladder than I have been for the past five years?

I sense the need to complain about things. I sense a need to ask others for things to be different. I sense a need to point out what is wrong, but I fear upsetting others. I feel the loudness in me rising, I feel a part of my past coming back to me, but I no longer know who this stranger inside of me is. He’s not allowed in here. But he will come in anyway. 

Have I been creating the exact opposite sense of self as I should have been? How low do I have to go, how much invisible internal pain must I face until the elevator can begin rising again? I have asked too much from this world. I have set my sights on a distant self, and I have missed what is developing in me now, what has been suppressed in me for years. Time is not on my side. I try to let go, allowing the waves to crash over me, but there’s always something to turn to, there’s always a fire escape calling my name, whether I find it in people, in things, or in the intangible worry that corrupts my soul. 

Tomorrow I will wake up.