I think part of my university experience has been trying to find that for myself. To have a moment of deep pride in my accomplishments.
On the surface, this new life is wonderful and it suits you so well; you feel like you are meant to be here.
Recently, I have been feeling a deep set loneliness encasing my heart, keeping her far from everyone else. Mother’s Day slowly appears in the future, and I begin to get afraid.
I felt emotionally exhausted and wanted the opportunity to transfer this emotional struggle into a physical challenge that I could overcome, learn and develop from.
Today is one of the days where I kneel humbled by my grief. I am not bowled over by it, I am not stressed about it, I am simply shaken by it.
I jumped into the uber, politely asked how my driver was doing, and after exchanging pleasantries, he asked me what year I was in.
“Third year.” I said with a polite smile.
Life is good, and I’m enjoying every second of it!
Whether we mean it or not, productivity is charged with a complex definition; what you produce has to be something we can measure against society’s standards, and it has to be useful.
Motivation feels like a flying bird: in your eye line for a second, and then gone forever more.
It started grating on me so much, that I felt irrationally angry whenever I had my lamp on and realised that the Feeble Light was still on, doing his best to grace me with his presence. Yet, he was so dim I did not idea he was there.