I mean she was really happy. She was doing something that she really enjoyed. Studying something that I think she wanted deep down in a subconscious way forever. And it brought her out of her hometown and she was travelling, which she always wanted. It made her feel so independent. Ok, maybe, she didn’t really make herself independent and she was burning a huge hole in her Dad’s pocket and all his savings were going for a toss. But she thoroughly felt guilty about it. She felt so guilty, she started distancing herself from her parents. And buying more unnecessary things. They made her fill in a lack of something she knew she felt, but wasn’t able to point as to what it could be.
But all this hard work and money was for something that’d help her achieve her dreams and it was what she was passionate about. Although she may not have been really good at it – sometimes she felt she disillusioned herself into thinking that this was what she was meant to be. No, let me rephrase that – it was something she could be. Sometimes though there would be a few assurances that maybe she showed a glimmer of something that may someday count and she would eventually reach the stage that she wanted to stand in. But I will agree, the rebuke is more than the share of assurance. And more struggle than anticipated. Or for that matter way less job satisfaction than you’d think. Sometimes it felt like all this years of studying and all this money was wasted to programme her to crumble under the reality. She felt like a lab mouse, a lab mouse that knew about the human history and civilization and the all the recent scientific explorations, who was now being forced to smell the cheese and cross the maze. The mouse wasn’t trained for this. What the fuck was happening?
But enough about her work, atleast she did find some good friends in the process. I mean, the ones she didn’t have a fall out with already. That ought to count for something, shouldn’t it? Sure, she sometimes felt that they barely got her or that they fitted into a picture of which she needed to be forcefully drawn into. But they cared for her. Sure, they did. And they’d keep in touch. Though you do tend to loose connect and it was her last year. After all, there were few from school she still spoke to. Ok, not you know, literally. Electronically message each other. But she did meet them. Once a year. But they always picked up right where they left off. They were all doing so well for themselves too. They were sure about the next step. She was really glad for them. Ok, maybe later when she was walking back home or idly scrolling through her newsfeed, she couldn’t help comparing her life to theirs, now and then. But, I mean, that was totally harmless. She knew it wasn’t a competition.
And she would eventually find her path. Or maybe she’d settle. But she’d be happy, right? I mean what’s the worst that could happen to her? Depression and a few other psychological disorders if she wasn’t strong enough to handle the rejection, right? She’d grown stronger than that. Ok, I’ll admit, she may have had a history of depression that stemmed from being rejected, but what are you trying to get at? She had recovered and she was stronger. And it’s not like she’d be alone in her struggle – she’d definitely have someone by her side. So she hasn’t met them by now. People have met their life partners at 50 or something. That basically gives her like 3 decades. Not that she’ll meet hers when she’d be 50. She has had been with guys. Maybe not the best of them. Ok, mostly, just jerks, but they were attracted to her. She’s got it in her. Except, that one particular guy, she really fell hard for. And that other one, who wasn’t into her when they were making out. Ok, maybe she wasn’t that hot. So what?
Look, she was happy.
Artwork courtesy: Jennifer Yoswa