Lost Millennial: I don’t know what I’m doing anymore

Lost Millennial: I don’t know what I’m doing anymore

When I was younger. I used to know what I wanted to do.

I had goals.

But the older I grow, the more I realise how unattainable my goals are. How unrealistic. Live in an apartment facing the city and the sea, be an editor of a successful magazine, write a book by the time I turn 30, have travelled around the world, and have a dog.

Of all the above, I have a dog.

I also have a husband. Which is nice. But it wasn’t one of my goals. It just happened.

Sometimes I wonder if getting married threw me out of whack.

Surely not.

Let’s address each goal.

Live in an apartment that faces the city and the sea

Having gotten married early and registering for a BTO flat in 2014. I’m currently living in my grandmother’s house with half of my belongings in a storage room somewhere and the other half in my old house. There’s just not enough space here. I look out my window and I see a carpark.

But at least I have a roof over my head right?

I’m not too stuffed about this goal. Now that I’m older, I realise how much it costs to maintain a home. To be living rent free is a blessing in itself. Sure it stinks that my $169 IKEA wardrobe broke from the sheer weight of clothes I have. But I’ll have a flat coming. In about two years. Woohoo?

Be an editor of a successful magazine

*Looks at the sorry state of the publishing industry. Laughs long and hard.* I was so chuffed when I got the job at Home and Decor. It was my dream come true. But as time went on, magazines lost their steam, content sites started popping up, the reality of needing more money hit and… my dream died. Should I be happy writing and earning nothing? Or should I look for a career I wouldn’t mind that would give me a good long career with a handy sum of money?

I went in search of a good long career.

Surprise! Still yet to find it.

Sometimes, it actually physically hurts to see the state of the magazine industry. To watch all these flailing print publications floundering in a pond when they don’t even know how to swim. Their years of experience and prestige weighing them down like a stone while younger online models float with the buoyancy of adaptability.

The art of crafting an article is lost. For the few who do appreciate it, magazines will always be there, like sailboats. Trophies of enthusiasts and collectors.

Write a book by the time I turn 30

Someone told me that I just had to start. And that in time, I’ll find myself with a thick, sizable one that would give me a sense of pride. “Just start”. It’s not that easy! I’ve had an idea floating in my brain for ages. I keep wanting to add, I keep wanting to change, I completely forget about refining and the idea becomes a wibbly-wobbly mess of all the many things that influence me.

Writing a book becomes harder every day. It is also discouraging when I remember that I’m not really a good writer actually.

I thought I would influence and change the world. I thought I’d make a difference. Now I realise I’ve been chasing a futile dream.

I just want a job that will let me do that. Be of some influence, help influence change. But I guess it’s just not meant to be.

Travel around the world

Can somebody just shout.. MONEY!! Abel and I have four dinky little canvas stuck up on our wall. They’re tidy little squares where I’ve mounted maps of the places we’ve travelled to. We’re currently at five. (Not counting SouthEast Asia)

Abel likes to remind me that we need all the money we can get for a renovation loan.

It is just so frustrating!

All these hopes and dreams, gone because I’m growing up.

It’s like bravery.

Remember how as children we used to run as fast as we can, jump off ridiculous heights, play catching and roll down hills with little worry for injury. But now, the thought of slipping and tripping has me walking like a cautious flamingo in shallow water. The thought of flying in a small tin can thousands of miles above land, rattling about in an economy chair, it frightens me.

My bravado is long gone, replaced with the fear and loathing only an adult can muster.

Growing up has replaced my fearlessness with fear and my hope with despair.

I want to live.

I want to survive.

I want to be happy.

I don’t want to be forgotten.

Those are my goals now. And in them I shall wander till I am found.

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