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One day it’s like sinking in quicksand, the next like your feet are stuck in tar. They’re both dreadful feelings. But not worse than the acknowledgement of the fact that you’re not moving at all, not going anywhere purposefully. And every time you attempt a slight move, it ends up being completely wrong or painfully useless upon later consideration.

Why? Why have the right words turned into the wrong ones? Why are walls being built higher instead of being torn down? And how can you stop the universe from expanding?…

I see people around me turning their dreams into something palpable. I also see people losing their way in the rat race, only waiting for the day to be over. And then another. And another. I’m in none of these categories. I’m trying to figure out not the meaning of life, just the meaning of my life, however tiny and forgettable it may ultimately be in the grand scheme of things. And I’m still failing gloriously at it. Because being good at a lot of things instead of supremely talented at a single one will get you that.

Then again, there comes a time – like with everything one does in life – when you have to give up questioning yourself and and renounce self-doubt (careful not to confuse self-doubt for modesty, though!). You may not have reached excellence yet, you may be half diamond, half coal still. But you’re doing your very damn best. Or you will. You’re rough and raw, you’re seeking still, you trip from time to time and struggle to find a reason to keep going. But, sweet girl, there comes a time when you either accept your calling, or you give it up and move on.

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