Troy Dyer of the movie Reality Bites said that all you have to be at 23 is to be yourself.
It could have been that easy, had I known what I to be at 23. Some people my age have reached great heights, achieved so many things, travelled far and wide. While I’m here, half whining and half feeling complacent at the speed of how my life is going.
When I was 12, I thought I knew what I wanted to be. I wanted to be a writer. I knew I had to be there, see the world for what it is and write about it. I was determined to have my name in newspapers in bylines. I knew I had to study hard, do well in languages so I can express myself in written words. I knew I wasn’t eloquent. Sure, I can carry a brief conversation, but I really don’t like speaking to other people. Even at a young age, they saw how talkative I was. But truth is, I’d rather write. I’ve always liked myself when I was 12, wide-eyed and ambitious, that’s why when people ask me how old I am, I’d always say I’m 12, because during that time, I like who I was.
Fast forward 10 years after, I hate to say this, but I still haven’t done anything close to what I thought I was to do. At 22, I’m in an office, in my cubicle, writing. But it isn’t the stuff I wanted to write about. It isn’t the thing I dream of doing.
What I am doing now pays for things. I am able to eat in places I want, buy the things I don’t necessarily need, drink what I swore won’t drink again, go to places; such things that I thought would make me happy. Deep inside, I feel empty. I feel ashamed of my 12-year old self who dreamt and promise she’d be somebody someday.
In few weeks, I’ll be 23. I don’t know what it is to be myself. It’s sad that I still don’t know what I want. I still don’t know what it is to be “yourself.” I don’t want to do an Elizabeth Gilbert, you know to “Eat, Pray, Love,” but maybe it’s something I need. To discover who I really am and who I want to be. I don’t think 22 is too late for self-realisation. Well, I do hope not.