Pre-21 year old blues

(I'll get over it. Tell me I'm not suffering from depression.)

Welcome to the beginning of a new year. And I can't believe how frustrated I am. I feel like throwing some things against the wall, tearing up tons of paper and the to-do-lists and screaming away all the new responsibilities heaped onto me. I want to forget all the people I'm supposed to be responsible for and sweep the mess off my table onto the floor and throw my laptop at the mirror. After all's done and destroyed, Tsunami JT will sweep out of the house and rejoin the Oceans and be lost in the sea to discover a new world of corals and fishes, and turn into a mermaid and live in mutual understanding with the deep calmness of the sea and the silent but colourful company of the fishes, and be cheered by the dolphins and the whales.

That's a cheerful thought.

I look forward to nothing. What is there to look forward to? Holidays? hello, they don't exist, do they? Holidays are plagued by stuff to do which I know I have to do and feel forced to do and do not want to do. Plagued by things which are urgent, and perhaps I should add 'important' against the wishes of my fingers and heart at the moment. Ministry responsibilities that I no longer want and struggle over and grumble and mumble and got frustrated over. Not to the point of hate, but my limitation in vocabulary prevents me from using a word much stronger than 'frustrated'. Tell me if you know a word that puts 'frustration', 'unwillingness', 'indignance', 'struggle', 'demoralised', 'bitterness', and all those self-directed angry words together. My vocab's limited, and perhaps I may start using expletives. I once said that expletives are the wit's end expression of limited vocabulary. I'm not at my wit's end yet. But I may just be frustrated enough to use expletives.

I come back to a house. I walk into an educational building. I walk into other educational buildings and meet blank figures. I got thrown into things that I do not want to do. I am ordered to do things out of my own choice (what irony!) and to make things that I don't think will happen happen. To bring the sunshine back to the pits I'm in now, send me to the oceans and make me a mermaid. I'm tired of people. I'm tired of having the responsibility of changing people. Who am I to change them? Sorry, that has become a broken dream. I can't even change the horrible reflection I see in the toilet mirror every morning. The frown, the dark eye rings, the mildest hint of wrinkles that'd manifest in later days. The frustration that burns in the cold stare is reciprocated by the one standing in front of the mirror.

I'm the smart rational monster which has confused itself by making wrong sound so right. I'm the deceiver of the highest order who blinds the self to its own flaws. I'm the professional potion maker who managed to dull its own senses by making the cloud of smoke more visible that the source of the smoke.

The smoke drowned out every single drop of the happy concoction. The past is hazy and the future bleak. Nothing is remembered except that which is cut deep. But as time heals, the wound turns into a numbing sort of pain, an impression that clouds all experiences.

I'm moving into adulthood--that which adults wish to forgo for childhood once more.