As you must imagine, my imaginary reader, my blog traffic has decreased to the occasional bot, but this is just in case. Been debating whether to part entirely from my blog or to post the occasional thing. I suck at getting rid of things, so it seems like it’s going to be the latter. Thank you so much for saying hi in my last post and sorry it took me so long to say something about it. I did read your comments as soon as they were posted.
So it turns out that here, every year around August, it is tradition that people get or make kites in different colors and shapes and try to get them in the air. Seeing as July is ending, they’re selling them everywhere now. I noticed the rainbow parade on the sides of the streets just yesterday, with a confused look in my face as it seemed like it was only 3 or 4 months ago that I was planning to get my Kite Revenge. See, kites never really worked for me, even though every year in school they took us to open spaces with strong wind for that object. I saw little colored pieces floating in the air, while my small kite was usually tangled on my hair or up some power line. So last year I said, that’s it. Me and the wind have some unsolved business here and we’re going to finish it!
Yeah well, it never happened.
I just can’t believe it’s been that long. It’s almost August again. Time flew by. I remember years used to take ages. – it sucks trying to describe objective measurements of time using relative measurements of time, but you all know what I mean. The earth is so obviously spinning faster around the sun.
My brain constantly flips between feeling too old and too young. Sometimes it’s both at the same time. In general, I’ve aged about a decade in the past 2 years. One sign of that is how I used to feel like I could relate only to those my age or slightly younger and I thought someone 5 years older than me could be my parent. I always defined myself as being mentally younger than my chronological age, not in intelligence, knowledge, or even maturity. It was just that in my brain, I was still a child. Peter Pan complex if you will. Now, all of you older than me will probably recognize this and be like “aww, so cute”, and I guess it could be normal that I finally feel like an adult almost 3 years after I stopped being a teenager. But it’s more than that. I feel ancient.
I’m graduating next week. *does the I’m- going- to- be- a- doctor- at- least- in- paper dance*
Took me 2 years to do a 1 year internship because of constant mental health related interruptions. I had a 6 months break in 2005 for the same reasons, so technically, I was supposed to graduate 1 year and a half ago. This should be overlooked after noting that I started my medical education when I was 15 so I could more than afford this delay. I mean, I could have taken constant breaks to take trips around the world, get drunk every night for months at the time and have lots of sex in between and still have graduated at a decent age for society’s expectations. But nah, that’s just not me. My idea of fun is to spend my time in pjs struggling to put a foot out of my bed, having panic attacks, dreaming about death and going to several psychiatrists and eating medication like candy – just to train my self on how patients feel of course.
Graduation comes with a bittersweet flavor as none of that is in the past. I completed a cycle but there’s no relief or hope in it, just the realization that one year and a half is not all I’m going to lose. I’m not able to work right now. Will I ever be? This is a very disgusting kind of uncertainty. And I imagine myself being 80 years old, looking back and thinking “Why did I do all of this for? I could have given up at age 22 and spared myself from all these lost years. It’s been downhill since anyway.”