How can you tell if your life is worth living? This is one question that very rarely applies to me. No, what motivates my daily mind and perpetuates this life of tedious unfulfillment is the desire to hop from pleasure to pleasure, sating every facile desire this brain tentatively perceives.
For three years now I have been locked in this state of stasis, this prison of leisure, and frankly, I'm tired of it. Every so often there comes a time when I feel life passing me by most keenly and in the rush to catch it, my soul separates from my body and mind culminating in the realisation of a most unpleasant truth - I am wasting my life.
It really is an awful feeling to know that your life means nothing. It's more awful, however, to know you're the one thing that perpetuates that agony.
Three years ago, I finished university. I'm a mediocre student at best and love to devote my time to the pursuit of pleasure (as stated above), so I graduated with a low-class degree. However, I was unprepared for what happened upon my exit from the three most fun years of my life - I was still alive.
There's always something, isn't there? People who seem to have the most always find some excuse for their behaviour, and this story is no exception. For as long as I can remember, I never saw myself at the age I am now. Hell, I never thought i'd see twenty. Although not particularly suicidal, I was morbid enough to believe on a subconscious level that I would never see adulthood. Now, quite clearly, i'm screwed.
I suppose I'm a planner...although I don't really see myself that way. What really stumped me on exiting into the real world, is that although I (i'll be really arrogant here) am a fairly intelligent person and an individual (almost) ready to make his mark on this world, I have barely any of the qualifications to do so.
Although respected friends and family members have told me that no one has a plan, it helps little as I can't help thinking (once again, arrogantly) of the circles I will never reach because of my lack of dedication to academia. This thought comes back to plague me again and again as I try to reconcile myself to life in the working world and half-heartedly try to find myself a job.
These days, I have almost negative confidence in myself, and being such a ridiculous coward that is afraid to even use the phone to call someone I don't know, I find myself in a vicious cycle of self-paralysing fear.
I'm scared to work - I don't like talking to people I don't know (yes, it's a stupid fear as once I know them a little I'm fine), and much more than that, i'm scared of mediocrity. Will I fail as a worker - as a human even, will I be inept, will I never amount to anything? Or will I consign myself to an oblivion of live-to-work, work-to-live scenario's and never touch the sparkling lights I know this life has to offer.
I do not hate myself anymore, those years of teenage angst are long gone. I accept myself and am even mildly pleased with how I turned out on occasion. By all accounts I should be fine, and yet I am here. So the question persists, persists and persists until I will either go mad, or somehow find the answer.
Why the hell am I waiting for?