4 Years

About 4 years ago, people told me that I had to start thinking about what I was going to do with my life. Off course I had thought about what to do with life before that, but still. It didn’t start to matter up until then. And two years later, I still really didn’t have a clue, so I just picked something to entertain myself with in the meantime.

Now two years after that, I find myself doing something that is less then satisfying, hardly entertaining and that’s really only a way for me to not completely stand still and screw up my life. I usually don’t start thinking about whether this is the way for me unless I’m pressured into it. If the situation is so bad, that I can’t deny that I have to think about it. But right now, it’s really not that bad.

I feel pretty good about myself. My self-esteem is probably the highest it’s ever been and academically I’m not doing half bad. But the pointlessness of my existence is beginning to get to me. Me and a friend were talking the other day, and he claimed that the answer to the question of the meaning of life was 42, following the gospel of ‘The hitch hikers guide through the galaxy’. And however satisfying this answer may seem, it’s really not that satisfying.

I always hope to someday find a passion. Something I’m willing to go out on a limb for, something I’m willing to fight for, something that gives meaning to my life and my existence. But I haven’t found it yet. Or maybe I have and I’m just scared to admit it. Because Admitting it would mean that I would have to commit. And to have to commit to something would mean that I could possibly lose something as well and that would just suck.

4 years later, and I’m still in the same place I was back then, still doing the same meaningless things as always, and still just doing jack-sh*t to change it. Only difference is, I’m not as much of a mess as I was back then. So maybe something did change?