To tell you the truth, my situation isn’t what I could describe well at my current state of mind. I shouldn’t even be writing this down, I think. Then I realize, nothing really makes a difference. Somebody might read it but they are going to forget it eventually, while I still get a moment of satisfaction for being a little expressive or more likely ‘loud’ for a change. Cheap thrills but nothing really makes a difference. So here is my situation. Basically, my situation since the last two years.
A day before my 22nd birthday, life took a minor turn. Father got unwell and I spend my 22nd birthday cutting cake with just one thought in my mind, how long will he survive? Then everything fell out of hand. My college went from bad to worse. I had no money to buy materials for my graduation project. Hospitals bills reached heaven. Bad times made me work, earn and live a living worth a lifetime experience. 9am-8pm became college hours. Sitting on sewing machines the whole day isn’t the kind of labor you fancy when you come back home to finish freelancing work from 9pm till the early dawn. 4hours sleep became my routine. Sleeping on the fabrics became a habit. At college, teachers would scold me for not following step-by-step orders. At home, mother wouldn’t stop crying. At college, close friends thought I was a thief. The reason behind the accusation? Because I was a quiet and I needed money. Careless people, you see. They think a step but never get to the second round of thinking. If I could steal, did I have to work extra hours to support myself? More likely, their brains never worked the way I wanted it to. Eventually they caught the thief but nothing was the same again. Bad to worse, dad got worse and I graduated with the lowest score. Got a job. Got a house. Left the house because my job didn’t pay me two months salary. Left the job. Searched for jobs. Unemployed for months. Lived on side projects. Blogged like a maniac to make myself busy. Mom never stopped crying. Dad never became better. Now, work is stable. Dad is spending his last days. He might not last more than few weeks from now. Everybody is home. I am sitting at the office. I am at the most crucial point of epic workload. I got three photoshoots in the coming next few weeks. Should I leave everything and go home and sit and cry? Or should I practically plan my next few months’ survival? Do I have enough time to sit and ponder over little memories? Or should I escape by overworking? Guilt could kill me for being such an bad daughter but guilt has no practicality of its own. In my head, nothing is right and nothing is wrong. In reality, I am not quite right. Time has its own limits. I am off-dimensional but hopeful. Maybe, all I need is a little bit of time. Maybe all I need is somebody directing me the best solution. Maybe, all I need is to re-write this whole thing from a different perspective. Maybe, all I need is myself. Maybe, all my dad needs is me.
To make the every worse situation worse, the only few people whom I once called the closest friends seem to have eventually gotten too busy to even discuss these little problems. Maybe they are pretending because they don’t know how to react. Maybe human relationships do not exist. Maybe I am too optimistic to be still believing in the existence of a perfect future. The whole point is basically pointless if you view it from an alienated eye, yet one thing never changes. We find most of the answers only within ourselves and we are nothing but what we make of ourselves. Nothing else matters because time takes everything away when the time comes, only the perspective differs.