A bit stressed, a bit sad, a bit depressed. Lucky that these periods don’t happen often, or at least they haven’t yet. Life has always been easy and rather undramatic for me, and the downside is that I’m not so good at handling “tough” times.

Anticipating the closing of this chapter in my life and the starting of a new one. I have no idea what holds ahead. When do I ever? I don’t know why I’m so terrible at planning things out. I do try to sometimes, but it generally doesn’t go anywhere. The only time that I’ve ever pushed myself toward a concrete goal and had it paid off was when I applied to college. After that, I’ve been pretty much swinging it. Maybe because I don’t really want anything that badly.  “I’ll live” – that’s my motto. (Feel bad sometimes that so much money was spent on educating me only so that I end up this unambitious. I am supposed to aspire to grander things.) But this time, I do want something badly, and not so easily obtainable. And yet I have so much doubt about myself.

I can’t say that I’m proud of the past few years, having been too comfortable and not pushing myself hard enough. Hard to imagine I once was such a social butterfly. The only “redemption” is that I’ve grown emotionally. I read so much that I can recognize different nuances in other people and sympathize with them, at least intellectually. It wasn’t until recently that I lived some of these nuances myself.

Sometimes I’m tempted to throw away everything and not have to try so hard. After all, I don’t have any special purpose in life, and don’t plan to go find one. Just go home and hug the pups, or move in with you, live on a farm and see no one but the birds. But I’m just so scared.