in timely fashion, the obligatory yearly existential crisis season has hit strong and hard. the last time it happened this year, i signed up for sundown marathon, hoping that it’d give me some meaning and purpose in my life (i suppose it did – although it also left me with unrealistic expectations about my current ability to still run as fast as i did without training as hard).

this year, what’s keeping me afloat (pun fully intended) is underwater rugby, and every week, i count down the days till it’s thursday, then saturday, then sunday, then thursday again. time is measured in terms of when is the next time i get to go into the pool.

but that being said, there’s this constant panic (or is it melancholy?) bubbling within me – watching friends grow, chase their dreams, living out that heart-wrenchingly vibrant idea of youth that’s splayed out on narratives everywhere. and here, here i am, feeling stuck and lost.

maybe it’s this fear of being left behind (because i suppose, you never outgrow that feeling – sorry, secondary school rei), maybe it’s this sense that everyone’s moving on without me (how childish, how petulant that sounds!). it’s this fear of never being good enough, of never having enough common ground to find a home anywhere.

this sense that it wouldn’t matter anyway, this disappearance.

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