Today is a calm, quiet, and beautiful Monday. The birds and their non-stop chattering invite me to the balcony. From the balcony I can see the lazy cat with the grey stripes sleeping on the wall without any care.
The steam from my bowl of not-so-instant noodles fogs up my eyes as I shove a fork full of the piping strings into my mouth. I can’t handle the heat and I do the most uncouth thing — I spit it out. That was part of my few achievements today.
I’m 26 and on the days when I’m not being my usual crazy self, I am busy doubting the reason for my existence and wondering if I will ever go down any path, instead of just sitting at the crossroad.
Sometimes I feel like the glass in a kaleidoscope. No matter how much I tell myself that I end up making a beautiful picture, I never forget that the glass is still broken. Then, there are days like today where the slow pace of life is relieving. Where there is no need to rush, no deadline to meet, and even if there is… it is long forgotten. The evening is calm and I don’t find the need to question the choices in my life.
Some days, some months and even years, we all doubt ourselves. The jobs we’re doing, the city we’re staying in and the lives we’re living. Life feels like a huge bowl of cold porridge — clumpy and without fluidity.
So you’re a 20-something or a 30 or 40 or whatever age-something.
You feel like a dead compass, pointing in every freaking direction.
You’re at the crossroads of your life and you really have no clue which way to go.