I’m going to be thirty soon. People say accomplishments are overrated, but you see, the way my life is set up, I’ve been led to believe that I should be accomplished.
I live in a third world country and my family barely made it above the poverty line. I did well in school, got a scholarship to high school and even made it to uni. I was the first in my entire extended family to do so.
Oh, I had some big dreams back then. I was going to get a big ass scholarship and move to the UK, study at Sheffield or Cambridge or some other such like school.
Clearly didn’t work out how it was supposed to, because sitting here, in public transport, no car (as if that should matter) and riddled in student loan debt, I feel like my life has been extremely underwhelming.
Still single, living alone. I love my apartment by the way. It’s my one guilty pleasure and probably a poor financial decision. I don’t care though, it makes me happy.
Ten years ago, I had a serious zest for life. I was much happier, carefree as only a nineteen year old can be. Granted that life was still hard, I can’t say that I was as weighed down by life as I am now.
What happens to us when we get older? When does life beat us down so much so, that we become shells of our former selves? I need some of that oomph back.
I need some of that energy to propel me to a better version of myself. I feel powerless to change my life for some reason I cannot identify.
I think the changes I want to see in my life are monumental when I compare them to the little steps I’ve taken to do so. I feel very limited in what I can do.