I am overthinking it. Fuck.

This is gonna be another blog I wrote not knowing how I should finish. I recently said that I am trying to accept that not everything has a conclusion and some things aren't supposed to make sense to us immediately. Embracing uncertainty is finally growing on me.

This is me trying. I am actually trying. My comfort zone is bigger than it sounds, and the distance toward the end of it is still blurry to me.

And just so you know, I am currently listening to Taylor Swift.

"This Is Me Trying" would be a better fit, but I am not in a mood to cry, so I am listening to "Cardigan" because it's not relatable, and it's soothing me. Nothing gets you at times like white women music does.

It recently dawned on me that I am closer to having to find a job than to kindergarten, which is actually not a realization but a fact I did my best to ignore and not think about once. I am someone whose primary fear is losing control.

The third year of college is approaching, and I am not the same person I was two years ago. This is what life is about: every time you make a plan thinking you've got everything figured out and not even the God above could change it, life humbles you to remind you you're just like everybody else.

And in my case, I don't know if I should celebrate it or mourn the woman I used to be—the woman who surpassed all of her limits to get what she wants, the woman who sacrificed peace of mind for achievements, and simply the woman who had energy. At least that's what I thought.

Now, all I think about is comfort, stability, and peace of mind. And every time I catch myself thinking like that, I feel like I caught someone cheating on me. I am losing myself, but not in a particularly bad way, and I am not sure if it's a bad thing. All I have are questions, and the only answer I have is that the fear of not reaching my highest potential is eating me alive, which is a common fear for anyone my age and above.

This is my process: I start to feel bad because I start to look like someone who would enjoy a 9-5 job. Then I get to thinking about what got me here. Why did I become such a person who refuses to surpass their limits to get to the highest point of their goal? That's when I usually realize that every time I do that, I end up burnt out, not wanting to step a foot closer to what I killed myself trying to get.

All that time, every time I wanted something, I would harm myself in the process of getting it because I refused to accept that I didn't have the energy. My need to be cool and understand everyone and everything in life got me to believe that I am capable of things that would drain me.

Although I hate to admit it, I confused talent with capability. Every time I discovered a new talent, I looked at it from afar and thought to myself, "Oh, you probably could've been as good as that person if you made enough effort," then shamed myself for being lazy. When in fact, talent isn't just the thing they're doing itself. It's their capability to do it effortlessly, it's the time they put in it because they want to do it, not because they're trying to prove they're better, and primarily, it's the capability to continue it because it's what they're good at.

So this is me admitting to myself what went wrong. I am someone who overworked and surpassed their mental limit to be the best person possible in life to the point that they're burnt out at the age of 21. I am willing to take time and heal from it. What's done is done, and I can't blame myself for it because I know that girl was struggling and did what she thought was right each time.

I know if I was talking to a friend, I would've probably told them:

"You’re not choosing comfort to avoid growth; you’re learning how to grow in a way that respects your limits."

And I keep telling it to myself: "It's okay to choose something you're not sure of and admit you're currently fragile and can't afford being burnt out. You have time and control over every path you cross." But I am still afraid I am going to take comfort in a path I don't like because I got back to being afraid of other possibilities. I keep imagining waking up one day to realize I am at a place where all I do is be mediocre with fully wasted potential and a miserable life.

I shame myself daily for wanting to have a normal office job and a simple salary that I can use to help my very non-financially responsible parents (God bless them, but they exhaust me sometimes), feed myself, and afford things I want to experience in my twenties.

I guess I hate to admit that I became satisfied with having an average, simple life because I fear the day the what ifs dawn on me. What I hate more to admit is that it seems to me like it's really not that big, and I am overthinking it. Fuck.

I don't know what to do with my life, and I hate that I am not okay with it.

I know I am being self-critical to the core again, but God knows I tried not to.

I guess this is it. This is what 21 is.